


I Just Want to Love You in My Own Language

by agetwellcard, inediblesushi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Flirting, Bucky Barnes as Captain America, Eventual Smut, M/M, Modern Steve Rogers, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Nurse Steve Rogers, except bucky is cap so like kinda shrinkyclinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-19 11:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11312262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agetwellcard/pseuds/agetwellcard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/inediblesushi/pseuds/inediblesushi
Summary: Bucky Barnes is Captain America and uses terrible pickup lines. Steve Rogers is Captain America's nurse and is not impressed by the aforementioned terrible pickup lines.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh I'm finally posting this! 
> 
> I feel like I've been working on this fic for years. But seriously, it's so nice to finally start posting this for the reverse big bang. I'll be posting a chapter once a day for five days. 
> 
> I have to give my artist inediblesushi the biggest thank you because you were such a good help when it came to brainstorming and giving me genius ideas like the name of Steve's dog and basically plotting for me. The art is so great and beautiful and ahhh ;___;
> 
> Also, I am prefacing this with that I am clearly no nurse. Nor have I been to the hospital or around nurses in years so excuse me if this isn't top notch accuracy. Just trying to write a cute fic tbh.
> 
> Also, also, title creds go to alt-J for the song "3WW".

 

PART ONE

It’s not even that big of a deal.

If it had been up to Bucky, he would’ve went straight to his floor and crashed on his couch until the next morning. He’s almost positive that by the time he woke up, inevitably still in his suit and his hair matted, his wrist would’ve been back to normal.

It’s not up to him, though. There is “liability” and “protocol” and a million other reasons that make Bucky trudge to the medical unit in the Stark Tower and wait for someone to check him over. The place is swarming with people, and Bucky stands in the middle of the mess until someone eventually recognizes him, gets an x-ray of his arm, and then pulls him into a private room.

There’s a standard exam table covered in a thin paper, but Bucky opts to hoisting himself up on the counter and tapping his uninjured hand on the countertop as he waits.

He’s staring intently at a glass container filled with cotton balls when someone finally enters the room. Bucky looks over, expecting the normal elderly, hot-tempered nurse that he’s had for the few years he’s worked with Stark, but it’s not her.

Instead, there’s a man frowning at a clipboard as he walks in, his blond bangs falling into his eyes. He’s tiny, especially compared to Bucky, and he barely fills out the nurse’s uniform he’s got on, his pants looking exceptionally baggy on his petite frame. When he looks up to Bucky finally, he pushes up his thick black glasses and squints his light blue eyes a little as he looks him over.

“Liking what you’re seeing?” Bucky quips automatically, smirking at the man. The guy is beautiful, and Bucky’s always been a sucker for a pretty face.

His frown only deepens, clearly not impressed by Bucky. “You fell?” he asks, voice much deeper than Bucky expected.

“From heaven, just to meet you,” Bucky says, winking dramatically at the man. He’s still unimpressed. Bucky clears his throat. “Well, kind of. Not very far. There was a lot going on, and I was in the middle of saving someone’s life so – ”

“Which arm did you fall on?” he interrupts.

Bucky playfully holds up one flesh hand and one metal hand. “Do you wanna take a guess?”

“ _Right_ ,” he sighs out, nodding once and then looking back down to the clipboard. “It’s not broken.”

He’s right; Bucky would know if it was broken. It’s not fine, though, either and Bucky hisses a little when Steve puts on a pair of latex gloves and gingerly touches his wrist.

“That hurts?” he asks.

“Well, yeah,” Bucky says quickly. “You’re just so hot that it burns.”

The nurse drops his shoulder and gives Bucky an even more annoyed look. “This is a serious matter, Mr. Barnes, and I’m just trying to ensure you heal properly so if you could answer the questions truthfully I’d appreciate it.”

Bucky is probably gaping at the kid. This isn’t how it usually goes. He’s used to stuttering, and wide eyes, and awkward declarations of love when he meets new people. He’s not used to this, though. The way that Steve shakes him off so easily, clearly not impressed by any of his come-ons, leaves Bucky a little confused. Admittedly, though, there’s something charming about the man’s complete lack of interest in who he is. It’s something Bucky doesn’t see often. He knows how to work for the things he wants.

“I’ll only tell if you promise to never call me Mr. Barnes again,” Bucky finally says. Then, he quickly adds,  “And you tell me your name.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, the nurse nods. “Fine. It’s Steve.”

“Steve? Nice, that’s a good name. _Steve_.” Bucky quirks an eyebrow at him. “Stevie?”

“Just Steve.”

Bucky nods, taking what he can get. “It hurts a little. Not that bad, though.”

After a few more seconds of awkward prodding, Steve’s thin fingers moving methodically down his arm. He hums to himself. “Okay, so I think I’m just going to wrap it.”

Nodding, Bucky watches as Steve swivels around to dig through a cabinet. He has to stand on his tiptoes to reach the bandages, struggling a little get ahold of the roll before swiping it and huffing out a scoff. Bucky watches, an amused smile on his face. Straightening before turning around, Steve walks over to Bucky as he starts to unroll the wrap.

“So, I’m gonna show you how to do this so that you can do it for yourself,” Steve tells him carefully. “You’ll want to change the bandages maybe twice a day until you feel it’s getting better.”

Bucky nods, like he doesn’t actually already know how to wrap an injury himself. He still remembers learning basic first aid before shipping out. He likes the calm way Steve talks, though, his head cocked with concentration as he slowly wraps the bandages from Bucky’s forearm all the way to his wrist.

“Make sure that it’s not too tight,” Steve warns him.

This prompts Bucky to smile slyly at him. “Thought tighter was always better?”

Instead of ignoring Bucky like he’s done so far, Steve’s fingers actually falter for a beat and his face goes red, the color going all the way down to the collar of his uniform. He makes an easy recovery, though, shaking his head as he starts to wrap the palm of Bucky’s hand.

“You shouldn’t feel too constricted with the wrap. If it starts to feel that way, take it off and start all over.”

Bucky smiles to himself, taking Steve’s minor hiccup as a success. Most of the blush is fading away as Steve starts to wrap his knuckles, weaving the bandage expertly through his fingers. Bucky makes the mistake of looking up to his face, his mouth parting in quiet surprise when he realizes how close they’ve gotten. When Steve blinks, his long eyelashes dark against his pale skin, Bucky realizes just how handsome the man really is. Something about his delicate, boyish looks distract Bucky.

“Feel okay?” Steve asks then, making Bucky look away from his face to the completed wrap.

Bucky clenches his fist once, hiding the wince, and nods. “It’s great,” he tells Steve. “You’re a miracle worker, you know that?”

Steve brushes off the compliment, looking Bucky over once more before slipping off the latex gloves and heading over to the sink.

Bucky hops off from the counter and leans against the exam table. “Do I get to see you again?” Bucky asks.

“If you’re injured, you might.”

“Is that a promise?”

Steve gives him an annoyed look as he wipes his hands dry. “I think we’re done for today.”

Before Steve leaves the room, clipboard under his arm, Bucky sends him a wide smile and a quick wink. Unsurprisingly, Steve reacts to neither.

***

Bucky is less than impressed with himself when he has to see Steve again.

There’s a long cut on Bucky’s abdomen that he keeps covered with bandages that were hastily applied on the ride back. They’re dark red now, Bucky’s blood staining the frayed edges of his suit and his hands as he is hurried to the medical wing.

“It’s not _that_ bad,” Bucky assures Tony as they walk.

“You’re bleeding all over my floor,” Tony says, arms crossed over his chest.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Am not.”

“You are,” Natasha agrees from behind them. “I almost slipped on it back there.”

Bucky uses his metal hand to flip Natasha off over his shoulder before returning it to clutch at his wound.

The medical wing is as busy as usual, but some of the doctors and nurses are waiting for Bucky, already squinting at his covered wound. It’s Steve, though, who easily weaves through the group and leads Bucky to a private room with a careful hand on his back.

Leaning against the exam table, Bucky takes a big gulp of breath. He’s not feeling so great, truthfully, and he keeps his eyes from looking down the red on his hands.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Bucky says weakly, trying and failing to sound light.

“I’m going to stitch you up and you should be all good,” Steve tells him calmly, pointedly ignoring Bucky’s sad attempt at humor. He makes an ambiguous gesture with his hand. “Could you – just, you know – ”

Bucky stares at Steve for a solid thirty seconds before he finally figures it out. “Oh!” he exclaims. “You want me to strip.”

Steve audibly sighs as he fiddles with various objects on the countertop.

“Could you unzip me?” Bucky asks, smiling devilishly over his shoulder.

Having to stand on his tiptoes, Steve gets the suit mostly unzipped after some fiddling. Bucky wiggles out of the suit, careful to keep the heavy fabric from sliding against his abdomen, and lets it fall to the floor in a pile. After slipping out of his boots, he’s only dressed in a pair of tight, black briefs, and he shivers a little in the cold room.

“Don’t usually get undressed before the first date,” Bucky says, “but I’ll make an exception for you.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” Steve shoots back sarcastically as he works on preparing what looks like antiseptics and pulls on latex gloves.

Admittedly, Bucky’s a touch disappointed by Steve’s complete lack of interest in his body. There’s not even any awkward fumbling or a deep blush as he looks him over casually. Bucky didn’t exactly work for his physique, but he’s almost offended by Steve’s disinterest. He looks good, and he knows it.

For a horrible second, Bucky worries that maybe he read Steve all wrong, and he’s actually straight.

Bucky pulls off the bandages and takes quick glance at the wound. It’s bad, but it’s stopped bleeding as much as before.

“This might hurt a little,” Steve warns him, holding up the antiseptic.

Bucky scoffs. “Doubt it. I’m kind of a – _Jesus_ , did you just pour acid all over me?”

Steve ignores him, putting to work disinfecting his cut.

“You are aware that I can’t even get an infection, right?”

“Better safe than sorry,” Steve tells him casually.

Bucky grits his teeth and tries to ignore the stinging. When Steve takes out the needle, Bucky watches the careful way he threads it and then sets to work sewing Bucky up.

He doesn’t actually want to have to watch, but he concentrates on how efficiently Steve does his job. His hands are perfectly still. Something about the expert, calm way he works puts Bucky at ease.

He still remembers the way his hands had shook when he tried to stitch up Dugan. Without thinking, he had doused the cut with the shitty moonshine someone had snuck around for weeks, and then pulled out their tiny field kit and did his best job. His hands weren’t meant for stitching, though, Bucky thought.

Steve, though, his deft fingers work precisely and efficiently to close up Bucky’s wound in no time.

“You’re a natural,” Bucky tells Steve as he washes his hands.

“I’ve had a lot practice.”

“You look pretty young.”

Steve gives him just the barest hint of a smile. “So do you.”

Despite the pain it brings, Bucky laughs. He swears he can see the start of an even bigger smile on Steve’s face before he turns around to look through a drawer for something. Bucky smiles at the back of his head stupidly.

“You gave a lot of people stitches in school?” Bucky asks.

“Not really,” Steve offers. “Mostly myself.”

“ _Yourself_?”

Steve ignores him as he finishes cleaning up. “You’ll want to come back in about a week to get it looked at. You’ll probably be able to get the stitches out by then.”

“So, I’ll see you in a week?”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Bucky cocks his head at him, still smiling. “Too late. They’re already very high.”

“I should get going if you’re all good. Do you want a gown or something to wear back to your floor?”

Looking down to his underwear and then the crumpled suit on the ground, Bucky shrugs. “I should be good.”

Steve doesn’t even look surprised as he collects his things and heads for the door. Bucky stops him, though.

“Wait, Steve,” he says seriously, making Steve halt his steps and turn around. His expression is worried as he looks Bucky over. “Do you…have any candy? Because I’ve heard if you go to the doctors, they’re supposed to give you some before you leave. And I know you didn’t last time but maybe you forgot, so – ”

“Goodbye, Bucky,” Steve says, rolling his eyes before leaving the room.

***

The third time Bucky sees Steve, things are different.

Bucky isn’t even injured. He has a few cuts and a rolled ankle, but it’s nothing that a few hours and the serum won’t heal. Instead of Bucky bleeding all over the floor, it’s Natasha this time. Bucky has his arm around her, trying to keep her upright as her head lolls against Thor’s shoulder.

A team is already ready for their arrival in the medical wing, quickly taking over and leaving Bucky’s chest heaving and stained hands. He finds a sink, washing his hands and splashing his face with the cold water.

Natasha will be fine, he tells himself. She’s been through worse.

He stays, though, deciding to wait it out as Natasha goes through surgery. The Avengers all crowd in the waiting room, Bucky leaning his head against the wall for a few distraught minutes before he shoots out of the chair and heads to his floor. He can’t sit around for an undetermined amount of time and just _think_. He needs a distraction.

After snagging the first book Bucky finds in his living room and changing into more comfortable clothes, he heads back to the waiting room and sits in a quiet corner. There’s already a bookmark placed between pages in the front half of the book, so Bucky starts there, willing his mind to become silent as he reads.

It works, too. A few hours pass, and the Avengers weed out one by one, making Bucky promise to send text updates. Only Bucky and Clint are left, the two on opposite sides of the waiting room. Past the yellowed pages of his book, Bucky checks on Clint every once in a while. He spends most of the time on his phone, his foot tapping incessantly on the floor, a nervous tic that Bucky’s seen before.

Eventually, it’s Steve that comes around, clearing his throat and making Bucky set down his book. He looks a little frantic, a stark difference to the calmness he always seems to be radiating whenever Bucky sees him. Bucky’s expecting the worse when he opens his mouth.

“She’s going to be okay,” Steve finally says.

Bucky sighs out in relief and runs a tired hand through his hair. He knew she would be okay, but hearing it makes Bucky deflate all his nerves.

Clint smiles then, broad and happy. “Thank god. I was going to be pissed if she died on me.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re happy she can’t come back to haunt you now,” Bucky teases.

“She totally would do that,” Clint agrees, nodding his head solemnly like he’s already thinking of it.

Bucky smiles tiredly and takes another big breath. Steve is still standing in front of them, now frowning at Bucky’s face.

“I should clean that,” Steve says, gesturing to the cut that Bucky knows is on his cheek.

Too tired to protest, Bucky follows him after ensuring that Clint will let the others know about Natasha. Leaving his book next to him, Bucky sits at the exam table and stares at an exceptionally long rip on his suit.

Steve interrupts his train of thought, though, as he walks over with disinfectant. “You know, I did tell you that Natasha was going to be okay. You should cheer up,” he says.

Bucky shrugs. “Just tired.”

The cut isn’t that bad, so after disinfecting it, Steve puts a butterfly bandage on him. Steve’s clearly trying to keep a distance between the two of them, standing to one side of Bucky’s leg and cautiously leaning in, hands ginger and careful as they apply the bandage. He’s close enough that Bucky can see the freckles on the bridge of his nose, and how it’s slightly crooked, like maybe he broke it in a fight and never had it set correctly.

Bucky almost smiles for a few seconds at the thought of Steve actually in a fight.

“So, what are you reading?” Steve asks then.

The question seems to come out of nowhere, and Bucky almost forgets about the book he’d brought along all together until Steve points to it.

“Oh,” Bucky hums, clearing his throat. “ _Brave New World_.”

Steve slips off his latex gloves and looks over to Bucky. “What’s it about? I’ve never heard of it before.”

“ _Never_?” Bucky scoffs. “This book is from before I went into the ice, and you’ve somehow never heard of it before?”

“I don’t have a lot of time for reading.”

“Are you serious?” Bucky says, holding up the book for emphasis. “Steve, this book – I’ve read it, like, a million times. It’s crazy. This book basically warned about the future we’re living in right now.”

Steve actually smiles with this. It’s a genuine smile, too, one that Bucky’s never seen on him. His whole posture and attitude changes with that one smile, though. Bucky watches the way his eyes even light up a little as he inspects the cover of the book.

“Maybe I’ll check it out,” Steve finally says.

“You can borrow this copy,” Bucky offers him quickly. “You’ll like it. I promise.”

Steve hesitates. He eyes Bucky, and then the book, and then back to Bucky. Finally, though, Steve accepts the book, idly flipping through the old pages. “Okay, thanks.” He smiles again. It’s not as wide as before, but Bucky suddenly wishes he could loan him an entire library if he smiled a little more. It looks good on him.

“You’re welcome. You can keep it as long as you need.”

Steve looks down to the book, his fingers tapping along the spine of one of Bucky’s favorite books. It’s from his old apartment in Brooklyn, before he left for the war. He wasn’t ever sure if he’d get to see those things again when he left, but after waking up from the ice, all of his things (besides the random objects in various museums) were given back to him in carefully sorted containers. Bucky’s always been careful with those things, like they were ancient relics from a past life. He figures he can trust Steve, though.

“Well, you’ll know how to find me if you ever need it back.”

Bucky really does.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can i first just say that i love love love this artwork that inediblesushi made me of bucky in the nasa hat. like honestly i kept staring at for reference bc i love the thought of bucky going to a store and asking like five sale clerks where they have the space hats.

 

PART TWO

Pulling down the bill of his hat, Bucky crosses the street, the cold January weather nearly making him shiver. He’s only a few blocks away from the building after a quick ride on the subway. He had easily slipped into the crowds and found his way around without being noticed yet. He still feels more vulnerable than ever as he walks up to his destination.

It had been Bruce’s advice. Bucky’s still not entirely sure what he has said or done to warrant the advice, but he figures it wouldn’t hurt just to check the place out. Yet, he still feels like a bit of a fraud as he steps into the VA.

The place is a bit rough around the edges, but it has a cozy feeling to it. Bucky veers from the service desk to find himself in a narrow hallway, shyly hiding his face every time a person walks past him. There’s a table full of pamphlets that seems like a safe place to stand.

He’s only half interested as he scans through them. Most of the titles are gibberish to Bucky, and others complete overkill. Bucky’s fine, and he doesn’t really need this. He doesn’t need to be coddled. He’s been through some shit but it’s not like he’s –

Bucky runs right into someone when he turns on his heel to get out of the building. He’s disoriented for a few seconds until he feels the careful hands of someone steadying him and talking to him in a deep, apologetic voice.

“I was late for a lunch, and I really didn’t mean to just crash right into – ” He stops his sentence completely, blinking a few times. “ _Bucky_?”

It’s Steve. He looks completely different than what Bucky’s used to. Instead of his carefully pressed nurse’s uniform, he’s wearing black ripped jeans and a leather jacket. On the lapel of his worn jacket, there’s a few scattered buttons that Bucky can’t decipher the meaning of.

This is really not how Bucky wanted to see Steve. He feels incredibly stupid as he rubs the back of his neck and shrugs. “Guilty.”

“I barely recognized you,” Steve says, laughing to himself. “What are you doing here?”

“Someone suggested I check this place out,” Bucky tells him. He tries to act casual about it, but he’s annoyed at the look on Steve’s face, like he’s actually pitying Bucky for dragging himself down to the VA. “I’m gonna leave, though. Not exactly my thing, I think.”

“Have you met Sam?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Sam?”

“Oh, you gotta meet Sam,” Steve says, already moving forward so he can nudge Bucky down the hall with him. “He’s who I’m meeting for lunch. You’ll love him.”

Steve turns back to him, clearly waiting to see if Bucky will take him up on the offer. Bucky doesn’t want to, not really. All he wants is to go home and try to remember to never take anyone’s advice ever again, but Steve is waiting for him to follow after him.

Bucky buries his hands in his jacket pockets and follows after Steve. He seems to know his way around as he walks through the maze of a building, finally coming up to an office with a sign that reads “SAM WILSON” on it. Steve barges right in, not even looking behind him to see if Bucky is still there.

“Finally, Rogers. Thought you had died or – Oh,” says the man behind the desk, already half standing as he observes Bucky before he shoots Steve a look.

“This is Bucky,” Steve announces. “He wants to come to lunch with us.”

Bucky is quick to shake his head. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I should probably get going anyways.”

“No, man, you should come,” Sam says, a kind smile on his face. “I’m sick of only hearing about this douchebag that Steve works with.”

When Bucky looks over to Steve, he’s actually blushing. Bucky quirks an eyebrow at him, more amused than anything.

“It’s not anything like that. I don’t talk about you that much,” Steve assures him.

Sam laughs and then holds out his hand for Bucky to shake. “I’m Sam, by the way. It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “I was just kidding. Steve does talk about you, but you’re not a douchebag.”  

Steve is still blushing when Bucky looks over to him. “I’m starting to think this was an awful idea.”

“Too late,” Bucky and Sam say at the same time. They look over to each other, mouths open, and then laugh, mostly directed at Steve.

Steve looks even more put out by this, but Sam slings an arm around him and they head out of the VA. Bucky walks on the other side of Steve and looks the two of them over carefully. He doesn’t think they’re together, but Bucky stupidly wonders if they could be with the way that Steve leans into Sam’s casual touch, the two of them muttering something random as they get out into the street. It’s nothing really, and Bucky is most likely just being jealous. He wonders if that’s just what a good friendship looks like.

They end up at a sandwich shop, Steve and Sam already walking in the direction wordlessly. Bucky offers to pay for everyone’s food, but they both refuse, everyone paying their own separate bills. They sit in the corner, right in front of the windows overlooking the street, and Bucky purposely takes the chair facing away from it, only taking his baseball hat off to not seem rude.

“So,” Bucky starts, leaning back into his chair and smirking at Steve. “What kind of stuff are you telling Sam about me?”

Steve makes a face as he picks through his sandwich. When he ordered it, he hadn’t even looked at the menu before confidently ordering his sandwich. Now, he flicks off a few random slices of cucumbers. “Only the good stuff,” he says.

“And that is?”

“Well, he told me he’s sewing up stab wounds for a celebrity. I saw Captain America in my office today and it all kind of clicked into place,” Sam says, talking through a mouthful of his sandwich. “That and he’s talked a lot about your devastatingly beautiful blue eyes.”

“I do not!” He turns to Bucky, face red again. “I have never talked about your eyes.”

Bucky cocks his head playfully. “You don’t think they’re beautiful?”

Steve keeps a straight face when he shrugs and says, “I’ve seen better.”

“He’s talking about my eyes,” Sam says.

“You do have beautiful eyes,” Bucky says after contemplatively looking into Sam’s eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes and takes a bite of his sandwich. He gets some mayonnaise on his upper lip and licks it off. Bucky quickly looks away, but he thinks that Steve might’ve caught him watching. Either way, Bucky pops a chip in his mouth to keep from saying something embarrassing.

“How do you two know each other?” Bucky asks after he’s done chewing.

“We both volunteer at this clinic in Brooklyn,” Steve explains. “The only reason I keep him around is so that I have someone to go to lunch with when I’m in Manhattan.”

“You live in Brooklyn?”

Steve nods his head. “Was born there. Take the fucking subway every day to Manhattan.”

Sam groans. “Don’t get him started on his subway ride. He’ll never shut up about it.”

“Fuck you,” Steve says, lacking venom. He flicks one of the abandoned cucumber slices at Sam. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, and instead pops it into his mouth.

Steve doesn’t actually complain about his troubles of taking the subway that long, and they mostly talk about their work at the free clinic and Sam’s work at the VA. The two of them go back and forth with each other, smiling and rolling their eyes, trying to get Bucky to agree with them. Bucky almost actually does feel like he is intruding, but the soft way that Steve smiles at him makes up for it.

Before they leave, Steve excuses himself to the bathroom, and Sam and Bucky awkwardly look at each other for a few stray beats until Sam speaks up.

“You know,” he says. “If you wanted an easy commitment at the VA, there’s open group sessions on Thursdays. You could stop by if you wanted.”

Bucky’s eyes flick down to the table, almost in embarrassment. Sam must’ve sensed his hesitancy about the entire thing with the way that he talks to Bucky like he’s a child.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Bucky hums, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

“No pressure. Just thought I’d mention it.”

Bucky nods, not agreeing to anything. It’s unlikely he’ll ever show up to some support group. He went through a war and then lost everyone he knew. He needs much more than a support group to make his mind work normally again. He doesn’t say this to Sam.

When Steve comes back, he collects everyone’s trash and throws it away. It’s only once they’re standing outside the sandwich shop that Bucky realizes that it’s his cue to get out of their hair.

“I was nice to meet you, Sam,” he says. “Maybe I’ll come by the VA sometime and see you again.”

“You should,” Sam tells him with a smile.

Turning to Steve, Bucky isn’t sure what to say.

“See you next time you get injured,” Steve finally says for him.

Bucky smiles. “Sounds good.”

***

True to Steve’s words, Bucky does see him the next time he’s injured. He’s barely even bleeding, but Steve frowns at him when he sees him, already setting to work on finding bandages and disinfectant.

“I’ll have you know that it took this guy, like, three rounds before he was able to get me,” Bucky grits out, glancing down to the wound on his bicep. They’ve already pulled the bullet out, still thankfully in one piece, on the ride over.

“That’s pretty impressive, Bucky,” Steve mutters sarcastically, making quick work of unwrapping the bandages on Bucky’s arm.

Bucky snorts. “It really is. You should appreciate that I didn’t get shot more than once. I’m making your job easier.”

“You’re so sweet.”

For a few seconds, Bucky is smiling, but then the sting of disinfectant makes him cringe. Steve, as always, works carefully and efficiently. Before Bucky even knows it, he’s taking off his plastic gloves and washing his hands. They’re clearly done for the day, but Bucky lingers, fiddling with the torn piece of his suit and watching as Steve puts things away.

“I finished the book,” Steve finally says, turning away from the cupboards to smile shyly at Bucky.

Bucky excitedly hops off the exam table. “Really? Already? Did you like it?”

“Yeah,” he says casually. “It wasn’t what I was expecting.” Bucky must look sad about this because Steve laughs then and shakes his head. “No, I mean, I liked it. I promise. It was just different.”

“Good different?”

“Good different.”

Bucky beams at this, and Steve even cracks a smile too. They stay like that for a few seconds until Steve gives Bucky’s injury one more glance and says, “So, I have something for you.”

“Yeah?”

Steve glares at him like he already knows exactly what Bucky is about to joke about. “Don’t get your hopes up,” he says. “But I, uh – it’s in with my stuff. Do you wanna come with me real quick?”

Bucky agrees and follows Steve out of the room. Everyone around watches the two of them curiously, Bucky still in his Captain America suit and the small nurse leading him. They probably look bizarre together, Bucky realizes with a smile.

Steve takes him to a locker room that must be for the employees. At the very end of one of the rows, he unlocks one of them and digs through a black backpack. He pulls out two books and holds them out to Bucky.

Frowning, Bucky realizes one of the books is his copy of Brave New World, but the other is a new book. The cover is bright yellow with an astronaut in the middle.

“ _The Martian_ ,” Bucky reads, looking back up to Steve’s face for an explanation.

“I thought maybe you’d like it,” Steve explains. “Bit more new than your book, so I don’t think you’ve heard of it.”

Bucky smiles down to the cover, his thumb running through the pages idly. “You’re right. I haven’t heard of it before.”

Steve seems encouraged by this. “Good. If you lose it I’ll never forgive you.”

“Never?” Bucky says, laughing.

“Never.”

“In that case, I promise to keep it close,” Bucky says, holding the books to his chest.

Stowing his backpack and closing the locker, Steve gestures ambiguously behind him. “I should get back to work.”

A little disappointed, Bucky nods. “Yeah, okay. Thanks for the book.”

Steve smiles again before turning around heading out of the locker room. Bucky stays where he is, flipping through the pages of the book Steve let him borrow. He’s lost in his thoughts when a scrap of paper falls from the pages and flutters to the ground.

He bends over to pick it up, finding it to be a receipt for the sandwich shop the three of them went to the other day. Bucky almost thinks it’s his, but then sees Steve’s order on it. He almost pitches it, thinking that Steve must’ve just put it in the pages as a placeholder, but then he turns it over to find it’s scrawled on. Steve’s left his name and then ten digits that Bucky realizes are his phone number.

In parenthesis below the number, Steve’s written, “For emergencies only!”

Bucky smiles.

***

Steve answers on the fifth ring.

“Hello?”

“Steve,” Bucky breathes into the phone. “What the _fuck_?”

“ _Bucky_?”

The thing is, Bucky knows it’s not polite to call people after nine in the evening, but he’s just finished the book that Steve lent him about an hour before midnight and he needs to yell at Steve.

“This book was crazy,” Bucky says, unsure of where to even start. “We haven’t been to Mars in real life, right? Like, someone didn’t forget to tell me we went to Mars? Because this book – holy shit.”

There’s a moment of silent before Steve is chuckling down the line. “Sorry, Buck, no one has been to Mars yet except for rovers.”

“Science is crazy,” Bucky says, laughing a little too.

“So, did you finish the book already?”

“Obviously,” he says. “I had to call you because this _definitely_ is an emergency.”

“Yeah?”

“It is. I can’t believe you’d recommend me something like this and expect me not to want to go to space.”

Steve laughs again. “I think the book was warning you against it.”

“What? No way! I think when I grow up I wanna be an astronaut.”

“Maybe one day.”

He almost expects Steve to make an excuse to get off the phone, but instead, they talk for a few hours. Bucky sinks into his bed, idly touching the book he’s just finished and cracking jokes with Steve as they talk about it, and then space, and then other random stories. Steve’s voice is low and tired-sounding, but he keeps talking, letting out amused laughs when Bucky tells a bad joke.

Despite having quite different life experiences, Bucky finds it easy to relate his life to Steve’s. There’s a warm feeling deep in Bucky’s chest about being able to just click with someone. Since he woke up, it’s been hard to relate with anyone. Somehow, though, him and Steve match.

They’re able to go back and forth for so long that Bucky doesn’t even realize that it’s already two-thirty in the morning, his eyes stinging with the need for sleep. He knows he should wrap things up, but he can’t do it. There’s a lull in the conversation, though, and Steve yawns, which makes Bucky yawn.

“Hey,” Steve says then. “I should probably get to bed but I wanted to ask if maybe you’d want to come over sometime. I have The Martian DVD. We could watch it together if you don’t mind coming down to Brooklyn.”

Bucky’s mouth drops open. “There’s a _movie_?”

“How did you not know that?” Steve says, laughing at him.

“Sorry if I’m a little behind on pop culture. I guess I’ve been too busy saving the world.”

“I’ll let it slide this time,” he jokes. “So, do you want to?”

Bucky almost can’t believe it’s even a question. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Okay, well, when are you free from saving the world?”

“I don’t really have a schedule, surprisingly. For now, though, I think this weekend could work?”

“Alright. This weekend. Sounds good.”

Bucky smiles, and he has a feeling that Steve is doing it too.

***

Waiting for the weekend seems to take forever. The world doesn’t need saving, so Bucky has no excuse to see Steve any sooner in the hospital wing. He doesn’t have much to do, though, beside train with his teammates. Natasha seems to think that Bucky is acting strangely, that he’s “too happy”, but he refuses to tell her about Steve. The last thing he needs is for Natasha to start stalking the guy or tapping into his phone calls.

He almost thinks about heading to the VA, but he doesn’t. Bruce hasn’t asked him about it, so Bucky decides that maybe it was more of a passing comment than actual advice. He’s tempted to go, though, only for the off chance he’ll run into Steve again.

It doesn’t matter, though, because once the weekend rolls around, Bucky heads to Brooklyn on the subway. The train car fills and empties as it heads towards Brooklyn, but Bucky stands in the back, head tilted down. No one recognizes him the entire time, and he’s grateful for that.

It’s only once he’s walking around trying to find Steve’s apartment that he realizes that he might not know his old hometown as well he thought he did. He swears that he used to know the city, but now he wanders through the streets like he’s never been there.

Eventually, when he realizes he’s going to be late, he caves and calls Steve, ignoring Steve’s laugh when he hears Bucky is lost.

“It’s not funny,” Bucky whines, craning his neck to read the street sign.

“Our hometown hero doesn’t even know his way around anymore,” Steve teases. “It’s sad.”

“I’d like to see you navigate around Brooklyn in the nineteen-forties, buddy.”

Steve laughs into the phone and finally gives him directions to his apartment. It takes a while, the two of them teasing each other the entire time. By the time Bucky actually arrives at Steve’s place, he’s two hours late and the sun is starting to set.

The last thing he expects when Steve opens the door is to be nearly knocked down by a slobbering mass of fur.

“Hey, Lady! Down!” Steve exclaims, trying to grab at his dog’s collar to keep her from jumping all over Bucky.

Bucky laughs, though, bending slightly to pet the dog. It’s a husky with bright blue eyes that stare up at Bucky in a way that makes Bucky feel a little threatened. Steve is still trying to reign in Lady, but the dog is nearly his size. All Steve ends up doing is patting her behind the ear to make her stop jamming her face into Bucky’s crotch.

“Sorry,” Steve apologizes. “She really likes new people.”

“You seriously named your dog _Lady_?”

Steve shrugs. “Oh, it gets worse. It’s actually short for Lady Liberty.”

“I’m not even surprised,” Bucky says, shaking his head with laughter.

Steve invites Bucky into his apartment after he’s calmed Lady down enough to let the two of them through the narrow front hallway. It opens up to a living room to one side and a kitchen on the other. The place feels bright and friendly. At the window, under sheer white curtains, Bucky spots a row of plants in the sunlight. In front of the brown leather couch, there’s a glass coffee table with a single photo book on it. Below another window, there’s a desk cluttered with paper and paints, a mug with dirty-looking water abandoned. There’s a framed painting leaning against an empty wall, like Steve hasn’t quite gotten around to putting it up.

Looking around the place, Bucky feels like he’s learned more about Steve than he could have if they talked for an hour.

“I tried to clean up,” Steve says, standing awkwardly in front of Bucky. “It’s just – kinda spaced this morning and forgot you were coming over.”

Bucky almost laughs. The place is nearly pristine. “No, it looks good, really. I like it.”

Steve seems surprised by this, a small smile on his face before he turns away and walks over to the kitchen. “Do you want anything to drink? Eat? I have beers.”

“Beer is good,” Bucky says, thinking that maybe something to do with his hands could be good for him. As Steve is rummaging around in a drawer next to the refrigerator, Bucky looks at the one beer on the counter. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a beer guy.”

“ _A beer guy_?” Steve repeats, clearly amused. He turns around with a bottle opener in his grip and smirks at Bucky. “Let me guess, you’re a…” He pauses, cocking his head in faux thought at Bucky. “Strawberry daiquiri kind of guy?”

“How did you know?” Bucky laughs.

“Lucky guess.”

Steve brings the single beer over to Bucky. “I’m not actually a beer guy. Can’t drink on this medication I’m taking. I think this is leftover beer from the last time Sam was over.”

The second that Bucky is seated at the couch, Lady jumps up and tries to sit in his lap. She nearly succeeds, but the bottom half of her body is on the couch.

“She thinks she’s a lap dog,” Steve tells him. He’s putting in the DVD, leaning over slightly to push a few buttons.

Bucky averts his eyes to the dog still on his lap. She’s licking his forearm, clearly vying for his attention, and Bucky tentatively scratches behind the dog’s ear. The TV starts playing, and Lady’s ears perk up and her head snaps to the sound. When Steve slumps down into the couch, he absently pets her as he fiddles with the remote.

“So, it’s pretty similar to the book, actually,” Steve says, shrugging. “I mean, there are a few things, but I think you’ll like it.”

The movie starts to play, and when Bucky reaches forward to grab his beer on the coffee table Lady moves so that she’s lying on Steve, her fluffy tail wagging into Bucky’s thighs. The two of them look completely ridiculous together, and Bucky decides to tell Steve that.

Steve only smiles when he hears this. “What do you mean?”

“Your dog makes you look tiny, Steve.”

At first, Steve frowns, but then he laughs. “That’s probably what people think when they see you and me together.”

Bucky pretends to look offended. “Did you just compare me to a dog?”

“You’d be lucky if I compared you to Lady.”

Bucky grins and takes a sip of his beer as they quiet down for the movies beginning. Admittedly, Bucky hasn’t watched that many movies since coming out of the ice, and he almost forgot how much they’ve changed. He forgets all about his beer as he stares transfixed at the TV. The movie is a whole other experience from the book.

Bucky is genuinely surprised when it freezes. He blinks for a few seconds until he realizes that Steve’s the one who paused it.

“Sorry,” he says, pointing to Lady. She’s nudging her snout into Steve’s leg in a very pointed way. “I’m just gonna take her out real quick. If you want I can keep it playing?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. Go ahead.”

Steve gives him an apologetic look before clicking a leash onto Lady’s collar and leaving the apartment. Bucky sighs and looks around aimlessly before getting up and heading to the bathroom he spotted when he first came in.

He relieves himself and then starts to wash his hands. Lined up neatly against the mirror are five orange medicine bottles, all with white prescription labels on. Bucky is curious, but he’d never actually lean down and read what they are. Something about their presence makes his chest pang with worry, though. Steve is small, but Bucky can’t imagine him being sick. In the mirror, Bucky fixes his hair, desperately trying to tame an unruly strand that must’ve been sticking up stupidly all night.

When he sits back down at the couch, his gaze almost immediately drops to the art book on the coffee table. He picks up and stares at the cover.  The very first page has a painting with a collection of basic shapes in variations of colors. Bucky doesn’t really understand it, but he flips through the paintings until Steve comes back.

“You like Russian avant-garde?” Steve asks, smirking a little as he shucks off his jacket. His face is red from the cold weather and his hair is rucked up from the beanie he had put on. His glasses are even fogged up, and he takes them off for a few seconds to clean them with the hem of his shirt. Bucky watches the delicate flutter of his dark, long eyelashes and tries his hardest to keep himself from saying something about how nice Steve looks.

Averting his eyes to one of the paintings, Bucky nods. “Oh, yeah. My favorite kind of art.”

Steve laughs as he sits back down on the couch. Bucky wants to casually lean in closer, but Lady takes her place between the two of them and Bucky takes that as a sign. He’s starting to think that maybe Steve isn’t looking for anything with Bucky. He’s okay with that, too. As long as he gets to keep getting to know him is all that matters to Bucky.

“Are you an artist?” Bucky asks, nodding his head towards the desk with paint supplies on it.

Steve looks over to it and makes a face. “Kind of. Haven’t really done much lately, though.”

“Why not?”

He’s quiet for a few moments. “I don’t know. Sometimes that’s how it is with art.”

“Okay, well, when you feel like making art again let me know. I can definitely be your model.”

“That’s really thoughtful of you, Bucky,” Steve says sarcastically.

“I don’t even mind nude stuff. I’ll undress for the arts.”

Steve shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They turn the movie back on and Bucky’s eyes are back to the TV screen until it’s finished. The whole thing is so impressive to Bucky that he ends up rambling about it for at least twenty minutes after he’s finished. Steve listens to it all, too, a soft smile on his face as he listens and pets Lady. Steve eventually ends up talking to him about different space things that Bucky had never even heard of.

They talk for at least a few hours, and not just about space. Steve tells him about how he decided to become a nurse after his mom died. She was a nurse herself, and Steve thought she would’ve liked to see him follow in her footsteps. He talks about his art with a slight frown, and he smiles widely when he tells funny stories of Sam.

Bucky listens and tells him about his life before coming out of the ice. He frowns when he talks about the war and laughs when he talks about his sister Rebecca’s crazy antics.

He barely even realizes how much time has passed until Lady is nudging at Steve’s knees again and he checks the time on his phone. It’s a little after midnight. Steve yawns, covering his mouth only halfway through before saying, “I should probably get some sleep. I can take her out and you at the same time.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but takes the cue, standing up and stretching. A few bones pop as he leans down to collect the empty beer bottles and bring them to the kitchen.

“You don’t have to clean up,” Steve says as he walks away.

Bucky ignores him and pours out the last few drops from each bottle before stacking them beside the sink neatly. Steve is waiting at the door, his leather jacket and beanie on. Bucky only has on a light jacket and Steve glances at it dubiously.

“Is that going to be warm enough?” he asks.

Bucky nearly melts at the thought of Steve rummaging around his coat closet for a hat or a pair of gloves for Bucky to wear home. He’s almost tempted to ask, but he shakes his head. “I run warm, don’t worry.”

They leave out the door and Steve locks up before they head downstairs. Lady pushes forward, nearly sending Steve falling forward before he wraps the leash around his hand a few times and squares his shoulders. His determination is almost endearing to Bucky.

Outside, the temperature has dropped, but Bucky isn’t cold. Steve is nearly shivering, though, his breath coming out in visible puffs.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” Bucky tells him quietly. It’s almost swallowed up by the bustle of the Brooklyn streets, but Steve must hear him because he smiles at him.

“You’re welcome. Next movie night is at yours.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, perking up. “So, there’s a next time?”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“I would never.”

They stare at each other for a few long moments, and Bucky wishes he could kiss him. It’s stupid. He’s not even known the guy that long, and he’s clearly not interested in Bucky like that, but he still wants. Instead, though, Bucky waves slightly and turns on his heel. What he can’t help but to do, though, is to look back and catch the goofy smile on Steve’s face.


	3. Chapter 3

PART THREE

Admittedly, Bucky avoids the Stark Tower’s cafeteria at all costs.

It’s loud and always overwhelmingly busy, and more likely than not overfilling with people that Bucky wants to avoid talking to. Instead, he finds something to make out of his own fridge, or will even steal something from Tony’s fridge if he’s not around.

Today, though, Bucky finds himself sitting at one of the round tables in the cafeteria across from Natasha. They’ve just finished their usual gym routine and Natasha nearly forced him downstairs to get some post-workout food.

Pushing back shower-wet strands of hair from his face, Bucky leans back in his chair and tries to avoid eye contact with the people around them. It always feels like everyone is watching him when he come here, but Natasha doesn’t seem to notice nor care about the attention.

“All I’m saying is, if Tony _happened_ to get locked into the bathroom of the jet before a mission, things could really run smoother,” Natasha says before taking a bite of her apple.

“I don’t know, Nat,” Bucky hums. “I think he’d a find a way out.”

Natasha seems offended by this. “You don’t think I know how to effectively lock someone in a bathroom?”

“I do, actually.”

Bucky is idly mixing around his oatmeal when he realizes that Natasha has stopped rambling. He looks up to find her staring across the room, a slight frown on her face.

“Someone keeps looking at you,” she says quietly.

“I don’t know how you didn’t figure that out sooner,” Bucky quips sarcastically. “It only happens everywhere I go.”

Natasha shakes her head. “He looks familiar.”

“Where?” Bucky asks, finally putting down his spoon and trying to conspicuously scan the room.

“The blond kid, your ten o’clock.”

Bucky tries not to make it too obvious with the way he looks from Natasha to his left. Instead of finding some creepy guy making eyes at him from across the room, he finds a skinny blond kid who smiles slightly when Bucky catches his eye.

Leaving his oatmeal behind, Bucky stands from the table. “You’re a real sleuth, Natasha.”

Steve is wearing his nurses uniform, his glasses slipping down his nose as he leans forward to eat a spoonful of the soup he has in front of him. He doesn’t seem surprised to find that Bucky’s walked over to him, nor does he seem to mind when Bucky pulls out the chair across from him and sits down.

“Are you stalking me?” Bucky asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Steve scoffs. “You wish.”

It’s been about a week since Bucky saw Steve last. Bucky had run into him in the elevator after one of his shifts and invited him to his floor. He had regretted the invitation fairly quickly, though, when he realized his place was a mess and that he had nothing for the two of them to do. Eventually, though, Steve had put on a movie from the TV and they watched it, occasionally making jokes.

Over the past few weeks they’ve been spending a lot of time with each other, Bucky realizes. Even when they’re just hanging out and watching movies, Bucky can’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing. Spending time with Steve is intoxicating, and whenever they’re apart Bucky always has the urge to text him random things that pop into his head.

If it wasn’t clear before, it definitely is now that Steve isn’t looking for anything more than a friendship. It still stings sometimes, and Bucky still finds himself staring a beat too long at Steve or forcing himself not to think of ridiculous domestic chores accompanied by Steve.

Steve wants to be his friend, and that’s good enough for Bucky.

“Natasha thought you were plotting something,” Bucky tells Steve.

Steve looks over to Natasha, who is watching the two of them carefully. She doesn’t look away when Steve catches her. He smirks. “Who says I’m not?”

“Oh, I know you are,” Bucky says. “I just hope it’s not as sinister as Natasha had in mind.”

Steve laughs. “I don’t even want to know what she was thinking.”

Bucky watches as Steve finishes his soup, scraping at the bottom to get every last drop. When he realizes he’s watching the way Steve licks the spoon, he looks away and clears his throat. “So, did you want to do something tonight? Maybe get dinner after your shift?”

He looks over to catch the way that Steve taps the end of the spoon on his lips in mock-thought. “I don’t know. I’m usually pretty busy.”

“Too busy volunteering at a free clinic? Reading to orphan children? Maybe you’re – ”

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to do some volunteering.”  

Bucky snorts. “Remember the last time I came in with a bullet wound. Yeah? That was my volunteering.”

“You truly are a humanitarian, Buck,” Steve teases. His drops his spoon into his empty soup bowl and sighs. “We can go out tonight, but only if we’re getting Indian.”

After finding out that Bucky’s never tried nearly any of the ranging possibilities for food in New York City, Steve’s been on a quest to make Bucky eat everything that wasn’t what he claimed unseasoned chicken and bad pizza. Last week it had been sushi, and Steve had watched on in amusement as Bucky struggled to get the hang of chopsticks for at least ten minutes before finally successfully picking up a piece.

“As long as it’s not spicy.” Bucky still remembered the hot sting of the Mexican food they had bought a few weeks back. It was good, but he’s not entirely sure he wants to relive it quite so soon.

Steve makes a face and then shakes his head quickly. “Oh no. No way.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve stands, a playful smile on his face as he collects his trash. “Meet me at the front doors around six.”

Before Bucky can respond, Steve is walking away. Bucky stays where he is, frowning slightly as Steve disappears into the crowd of people. He’s about to get up and leave when Natasha sits in the seat across from him.

“You’re banging your nurse,” she says knowingly, smile smug and vindictive on her face as he leans back in the chair.

“I’m not banging him,” Bucky grumbles.

“But you want to be.”

“We’re friends. That’s it.”

“Interesting,” Natasha says, nodding. “He’s definitely into you. No doubt about it.”

Bucky doesn’t even bother getting his hopes up. “Pretty sure that’s just your incessant need to hook me up with someone talking.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she says mysteriously.

Bucky wants to ask, but instead he rolls his eyes. Steve isn’t into him, and he refuses to even consider the thought. They’re good friends, and Bucky is okay with that.

***

The thing is, Bucky gets ready for his dinner with Steve like he’s preparing for a date.

He remembers the careful way he used to get ready to go dancing with girls in the forties. He’d find his best clothes, and grease his hair back, and shave with a steady hand. He always liked getting ready, even if he’d always feel a little nervous looking himself over in the mirror.

Now, he goes through almost all the same motions. Instead of thinking of girls in brightly colored dresses and carefully curled hair, he thinks of Steve. Steve with his bright blue eyes and dressed in his beat up leather jacket. Steve watching him with amusement as he tries new food. Steve being Steve.

By the time Bucky finally decides on what to wear, he takes the elevator down to the lobby and tries to avoid the crowds of people milling around. He slips through the revolving door undetected and then looks around for Steve.

It takes all of two seconds to spot him.

Because he’s in the middle of a fight.

There’s a crowd of people watching as Steve gets punched right in the face, knocking him to the ground. Bucky rushes over to catch the way that Steve actually stands back up again, holding out his fists in front of him as he bleeds out into the sidewalk. The guy who’s beating him up only laughs a little before punching him again.

Right before he’s able to send a kick into Steve’s side, Bucky steps in front of Steve and pushes the guy back. He hopes his interference will be enough to send the guy away, but all he does is take one look at Bucky and tries to actually punch goddamn _Captain America_.

He dodges the punch and then, for good measure, swings for the guy’s stomach. It isn’t as hard as Bucky can actually dish out, but the guy reels back when he’s hit, clutching his stomach and looking in disbelief. When Bucky’s sure he’s not about to start back up again, he quickly turns to Steve.

He’s swaying where he’s standing, his nose and a cut on his face bleeding, red dripping down and staining his t-shirt. Instead of a grateful expression, Steve looks angrier than when he was being beat up. He crosses his arms over his chest, and Bucky just barely registers the flash of cameras around him. He tries to step closer to Steve, but he jerks away, rushing back into the tower’s front doors.

Bucky heads after him, head bent as he ignores the murmurs around him and bright flashes of cell phone cameras. Steve is stumbling to the elevator when Bucky catches up to him.

“Steve, wait up,” Bucky says, like he can’t actually keep up with Steve. “What just happened?”

“I didn’t need your help, Bucky.”

Bucky actually laughs. “You were a few good punches from a concussion. Which, if I’m being honest, I’m not entirely sure you _don’t_ have one.”

“I don’t.”

Bucky smiles wryly. “That’s exactly something someone with a concussion would say.”

Steve seems unimpressed. The elevator dings and Steve is quick to step in. There are people waiting, but they seem hesitant to follow the two of them. Bucky’s grateful for it as he steps in and tells JARVIS to send them up to his floor. Steve gives him an annoyed glance but doesn’t reject the offer. Instead, he leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest.

“What happened?” Bucky asks then, frowning as he looks over Steve’s face.

Noticing him staring, Steve bends his head and wipes his forearm under his nose. “Nothing,” he says stubbornly.

“Yeah? You just like to get into fights for fun, I take it?”

Steve shrugs.

“Come on, Steve. Look at yourself, you can’t just get into fights with guys three times your size. You don’t – “

“Fuck you,” Steve spits. Just then, the doors to the elevator open, but neither of them step out.

“Did you even know that they were protesting out there? Fucking hate speech right outside your doors for days and you don’t care at all. That guy’s been pissing me off, and today I caught him trying to pull some girl’s hijab off. I wasn’t going to stand there and let him get away with it.”

Bucky stares at him, bewildered. He hadn’t even been aware of protesters outside of the building. It always seemed like such a madhouse, and Bucky had thought it was just the hustle of New York City.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” Bucky says, not sure if he should scold him or praise him.

Steve sighs, looking incredulously at Bucky. “I should just – ” Steve starts to say, but Bucky grabs his arm.

“Just come on,” he says, pulling him towards the bathroom. “It’s my turn to clean you up.”

Steve yanks his arm away, but follows Bucky to the bathroom. He’s been to his suite a few times, but he fumbles around in Bucky’s bathroom, searching for the medical kit. Bucky sighs and finds the thing in the back of the cupboard under the sink. Steve is leaning into the mirror, frowning at his reflection and gingerly touching his nose.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” he mumbles.

Before Bucky can agree with him, Steve’s searching through the kit.

“Steve, c’mon,” Bucky whines, pulling it away from Steve. “I got this. Just go sit down.”

Steve pulls it right back. He starts to dig through the contents, and Bucky sighs angrily.

“Jesus, Steve, why can’t you let me help you?”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Yeah, I know that. I’m doing this because I care about you.”

Steve goes silent when he hears this, and when Bucky looks over to him, he’s staring at Bucky with his eyebrows raised in surprise for a seconds before he schools his face back to normal and then lets his shoulders drop. Unexpectedly, he actually shuffles over to perch on the side of the tub.

Bucky gets a washcloth wet with warm water and hesitantly brings it up to Steve’s face. Most of the bleeding has stopped, so Bucky gently wipes at the partially dried blood. Standing in-between his legs, Steve has to angle his head up slightly, his eyes looking away from Bucky’s.

He must be too careful, though, because Steve huffs out a sigh. “You’re not gonna break me.”

“Trust me, I know that,” Bucky says, hoping he sounds flippant. He’s nervous, and he feels like if he didn’t have the serum his hands would be shaking. “I saw you get back up after that guy punched you.”

Steve looks oddly proud when he hears this, and his demeanor seems to change. His anger melts away as Bucky cleans his face, trying not to think too hard about the way he looks so pretty in the dim lighting of Bucky’s bathroom. He refuses to get distracted by the way he licks his bloody lips or how his eyes float shyly to the ceiling as Bucky works.

“Christ, was he wearing a ring?” Bucky asks, inspecting the cut.

Steve shrugs. “Probably.”

Bucky shakes his head and applies a butterfly bandage as best as he can. He imagines that Steve’s hands are better than his, could probably do everything and more than what Bucky’s doing. Steve could probably do this all in a couple minutes, but he doesn’t. He lets Bucky work slowly and cautiously.

Before he realizes it, Bucky’s finished. His left hand is still resting on Steve’s neck, palm flat against the skin, and his fingers touching Steve’s soft hair. He pauses too long, and Steve looks over, eyes softly meeting Bucky’s. They stay that way for a few too many seconds. Stupidly, Bucky wants to admit that he’s taken it too far, that he’s too deep into the pining. Even worse: he wants to kiss Steve so he doesn’t have to admit any of it out loud.

Steve clears his throat. “Were we going to order food?”

Bucky nods, quickly retracting his hand and stepping away to wash his hands at the sink. He feels his face burn with embarrassment. Without looking over to him, Bucky asks, “Do you, uh, want to borrow something to wear? I could probably get that stain out.”

Steve is quiet for a few seconds. Bucky isn’t sure what to expect. He almost wants to apologize for even asking. Then, he hears Steve huff out a breathy laugh. “You want me to strip?”

Before Bucky can stop himself, he barks out a laugh. His shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re using my own lines against me, punk,” he says. Then, “But, yes, that was my plan all along.”

“I knew it.”

Bucky searches through his wardrobe for something even just a little small on him, but all he comes up with is a grey hoodie he wears when he goes on runs sometimes. When he tosses it to Steve, he looks away to give Steve some privacy to change out of his t-shirt. When he looks back, Steve is frowning down at the hoodie.

“I look ridiculous in this monstrosity.”

He does, too. It’s at least three sizes too big, the sleeves long enough to completely cover his hands and the torso hanging off of him limply. Bucky laughs, but mostly because of how cute he looks in it, and especially because of how grumpy he looks about it.

“It does. You could take it off. Go shirtless if you want. I’m sure it’s a good look on you.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest and glares. “ _Nice_.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t take his hoodie off.

They do order some food, though, lounging in Bucky’s living room until the pizza delivery guy comes, making wide eyes at Bucky as he hands over a fifty.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, and Bucky carefully watches the way Steve only eats a few bites and then picks at the pepperoni. Bucky decides not to ask, or comment on his eating habits since he’s already been down that dark road once already. Finally, though, Steve looks up at Bucky with a cautious look on his face.

“You know my dad died when I was only a baby, and it was only me and my mom for a long time. We had no other family, just us until she died and I was alone.” Steve swallows, now picking at his napkin idly as he talks. “It didn’t help that I was always sick. I didn’t want for people to think that I couldn’t manage on my own.”

Bucky wants to say that he knows Steve can, and that all he was trying to do was care for him like Steve would do for him. He keeps his mouth shut. He hopes that Steve already knows this.

“So, yeah, sometimes it is hard for me to let someone help me,” Steve finishes, finally looking to meet Bucky’s gaze once again.

Slowly, Bucky nods. “Okay, sure,” he says hesitantly. He’s not entirely sure how to reply.

Steve huffs out a sigh. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t – well, that I don’t appreciate you helping.” He makes a face before he continues. “It’s just hard sometimes to let someone else help me.”

For an ignorant second, Bucky wonders if this is a romantic moment. He wonders if Steve’s telling him this because he wants Bucky to know that he’ll let Bucky help if he wants. He wonders if maybe he’s been reading all the signs wrong.

It’s stupid, and he hates himself a little for even thinking of it, and for ruining a perfectly good moment in their friendship with his quasi-romantic feelings. He’s so goddamn hopeful, though, that he lets it slip by.

“I did the same thing with Sam. When we first became friends, I refused to let him watch over me or feel bad or – I don’t know. It took a long time for him, and I don’t want it to be like that for us.”

With the mention of Sam, it doesn’t feel as romantic as before.

“Like I said,” Bucky tells him carefully, heart beating nervously. “It’s only because I care about you.”

Steve smiles softly at him when he hears this, and then he does something unexpected. He stands from his chair and hugs Bucky. Steve’s not a particularly touchy person, and always leaves a safe gap between them on the couch or when they’re walking side by side. That’s why the touch is so unexpected, the way he leans in and wraps his arms around Bucky, chin tucked into Bucky’s shoulder. He’s so surprised by it that it takes him a few seconds to finally reciprocate the hug.

Steve is bony and fragile in Bucky’s grip, but he smells good and his hair tickles Bucky’s neck. Bucky tries to think back to his last hug, but his mind is drawing a blank. He realizes that it had to have been before, by his mother or maybe his sister. Christ, it could’ve even been Howard, for all he remembers.

They stay like that for a few long moments until Steve breathes out a laugh, voice muffled through the fabric of Bucky’s shirt when he says, “You’re so much less of a dick than I thought you were when we met.”

“You too, Steve,” Bucky murmurs before the two of them break out into laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight warning for gun violence in this chapter!

PART FOUR

Bucky goes on a two-week mission only an hour away in New Jersey. It’s top secret, and their cell phones are kept hostage back at base so there’s no accidental information leak. It’s standard, and Bucky’s never had a problem with it, especially now that his name is all over gossip sites accompanied by pictures of him and Steve in the fight. Now, though, something about not having Steve at his fingertips is a bit unnerving to him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have a lot of spare time to even think of it. The mission is a mess, but by the end of it they manage to tie up as many loose ends as they can before retreating back to the tower, all of them blissfully quiet on the ride home.

They arrive just as the sun is rising, the sky a soft pink as they settle into a conference room to debrief. All Bucky wants to do is collapse into his bed and sleep for a few days. It’s all protocol, though, so he stays where he is and tries his best to make sense of everything that’s being thrown at him.

When they release them, it’s only so they can get check ups in the medical wing. Usually, Bucky would be agonizing over the fact that he has to see a doctor before he can curl up into bed, but he nearly sprints to medical in hopes Steve is already in.

He’s not, though. There’s only some replacement nurse who seems indifferent as she checks Bucky over, voice monotone as she goes through a list of routine questions.

Before the nurse leaves, Bucky stops her. “Hey, do you know where Steve is?”

She shakes her head. “I think he’s called off the past few days.”

“Called off?” Bucky echoes, frowning. “Do you know why?”

“I don’t really know him that well,” she says, shrugging.

Once he’s cleared, Bucky hurriedly strips the suit off and turns on his newly acquired phone. He’s grimy from a few days without a proper shower, but he doesn’t bother as he scrolls through his phone in hopes Steve’s sent something.

Besides a photo of him and Lady that he had sent a day before Bucky left, there’s nothing. Bucky sends him a quick text before resigning to the shower. Bucky knows that Steve knows that him disappearing isn’t anything strange. Usually, when missions stretch more than a day or so, Steve will at least leave a one-sided running commentary in texts. There’s nothing, though.

Despite the urge to go to his apartment and check up on him, Bucky actually manages to get some rest. He waits until the next day and tries to inconspicuously glance around the crowded Stark Tower cafeteria for him. He only ends up even more disappointed than before when he can’t find him anywhere.

When Bucky decides to take a trip over to the VA, he tells himself it’s not in hopes that he’ll run into Steve.

He wanders around the place until he accidentally stumbles in on what appears to be a group session. It’s not as Bucky imagined it in his head. Instead of a circle of chairs and everyone crying, there are a few uneven rows of chairs and a podium at the front, Sam standing behind it and dutifully listening to someone. The speaker is a woman with dark hair who tells of a time she thought a plastic bag was a bomb. This encourages others to speak up themselves.

Bucky leans against the doorway and listens, shoulders hunching a little when Sam notices him, quirking a curious eyebrow at him before he looks back to the group. The group’s experiences are different than his own. Everything’s changed so much since Bucky went to war, but somehow he manages to find similarities and parallels in a lot of it.

He’s not exactly some changed person who is going to religiously show up for group sessions, but a part of him is relieved and soothed at the idea that he isn’t alone.

When it finishes, Bucky moves from the doorway and keeps his head low as everyone filters out. Sam waits until the very last person is gone before approaching Bucky, crossing his arms over his chest as he stands in front of him.

“I’d like to think that you finally decided to give this place a chance,” Sam says, “but I’m assuming it’s because you’re looking for Steve.”

Bucky shrugs, like maybe it’s not true. “Guilty.”

Sam nods. “He’s sick. Been out for a few days, but he should be fine. Happens every winter.”

“He’s _sick_? Jesus, for how long?” All Bucky can think of are the orange pill bottles in Steve’s bathroom.

Sam makes a face, but he barely seems distressed about Steve. “He’s fine, Barnes. Like I said, happens all the time.”

“Who’s watching over him?”

“Me and some buddies from the clinic are checking up on him every now and then.”

“Every now and then? Sam, what the – ”

“Look, I have work to do. If you really want, you can take my shift with Steve. I was supposed to go check in on him after work tonight, but if you want you can do it for me.”

Bucky stops his train of thought, his piqued anger dissipating as he looks hopefully up at Sam.

Sam holds up a finger. “But only if he wants you to.”

While Sam makes the phone call to Steve, Bucky stands in the hallway with his hands in the pocket of his jacket and tries to hear bits of the conversation. Sam is pointedly talking quietly, though, so he doesn’t get much. Eventually, Sam walks out of his office and looks at Bucky for a few quiet moments.

“Here,” he finally says, digging around in his pocket before pulling out a key to Bucky. “He wants you to bring him a milkshake.”

***

Bucky does buy Steve a milkshake, but it’s not the only thing he buys before making his way to Steve’s apartment.

He ends up with an armful of things at the nearest bodega, all of it falling ungracefully onto the conveyer belt as an unimpressed cashier looks on. When he gets to Steve’s apartment, arms laden in plastic bags, he struggles to slip the key into the lock.

The apartment is messier than last time he was over, a few forgotten bowls and plates on the coffee table and some random tissues on the floor. After dropping his bags onto the kitchen counter, Bucky creeps towards Steve’s door with the milkshake. It’s slightly ajar, but the light is off inside. He nearly trips on Lady, who is sound asleep right outside the room. She looks up to Bucky, and for a few seconds he’s scared she’s going to bark, but she doesn’t. Instead, she blinks at Bucky and then rests her head back on the ground.

He knocks on the door before quietly whispering, “Steve?”

There’s a lamp on near the bed, but Steve is covered completely by the blankets, his breathing loud enough to hear as Bucky enters the bedroom. Peeling the blanket off his face, Steve squints at Bucky.

“What is that?” he asks. He’s glaring at the milkshake in Bucky’s hand.

“Uh,” Bucky starts, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid. “Sam said…well, maybe he was fucking with me. I’m not sure. I guess – ”

“I’m cold,” Steve states, interrupting Bucky.

Bucky stands in the doorway, unsure of what to do. He’s never seen Steve like this. He’s completely out of it, probably with fever or medication or both.

“Okay, I’ll get you blanket,” he finally settles on, already halfway out the door to put away the milkshake.

“No,” Steve whines. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not. Do you need anything besides the blanket? Maybe some medicine or water?”

Steve makes an annoyed noise. “Want you. Come keep me warm.”

If Bucky was smart, he’d get Steve his blanket and leave the apartment. If he was smart, he wouldn’t make a stupid mistake like gaping at Steve for a few seconds until turning on his heel to put away the milkshake and head right back for Steve’s bed. No, Bucky is a complete idiot that slips into bed next to Steve, not expecting the way he presses into him.

Admittedly, Bucky is weak.

Steve makes a content noise when Bucky settles in next to him, pulling the covers over the two of them. Bucky only means to stay where he is for a few minutes, until Steve falls back to sleep and Bucky can leave for the night.

He almost does, too, but Steve stops him. “No, please, Buck, don’t go,” Steve says, a weak grip on Bucky’s wrist. “Stay. You’re so warm.”

“Steve, I shouldn’t stay.”

Steve sounds broken up when he whispers, “Please don’t leave me.”

Bucky scrubs his face with his free hand and knows this is exactly what he knew was going to happen the second he slipped into bed with Steve.

“I’m not going to leave you,” Bucky tells him quietly.

***

Steve wakes up before Bucky.

He wakes Bucky up by jabbing his bony fingers into Bucky’s side, voice sleepy as he complains, “You’re snoring too loudly, Buck.”

If it wasn’t for Steve’s nasally voice and his warm body pressed against Bucky’s, he might’ve jumped out of bed at the very touch of his hands, but he doesn’t. Instead, he rubs his eyes and squints into the daylight that’s pouring in from the window.

Steve’s slipped down the bed, his face pressed against Bucky’s side, breath hot as he breathes against the material of Bucky’s thin shirt. Lady is on the bed now, just nearly fitting in the space beside Steve, resting her head on his hip. Bucky’s arm is around Steve, keeping him in place. Bucky can feel Steve’s cold feet against his own. So stupidly, Bucky wonders what it’d be like to wake up like this every morning.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, not thinking when he bends his arm awkwardly to put the back of his hand against Steve’s forehead. It’s still hot, but not burning like last night.

Steve swats his hand away. “I’m fine. Feel better.”

Nervously, Bucky clears his throat. “You were kind of out of it last night. Hopefully you don’t mind that I stayed over.” He doesn’t mention that Steve had practically begged him to stay in his bed with him.

“No,” Steve says indifferently. He sits up a little so that he can rest his head on Bucky’s chest, soft hair tickling Bucky’s neck. “You’re a great pillow.”

Bucky smiles up to the ceiling, bringing his hand up so it’s resting in Steve’s hair, fingers lazily stroking through the greasy locks. “I brought over the milkshake you wanted last night,” Bucky tells him. “But you didn’t want it by the time I got here.”

Steve looks up at him, surprised. “You brought me a milkshake?”

“Yes, you weirdo. You asked Sam for me to get you one.”

“What was I thinking?”

Bucky laughs. “Yeah, I thought it was kind of a weird request but – “

“No, why did I refuse it? Did you save it? I’ll take it now if you saved it.”

Bucky hates having to get out of the warm bed and disentangle himself from Steve, but the look on Steve’s face is worth it when he catches sight of the chocolate milkshake Bucky had put in the freezer the night before. His eyes light up when he spots it, his hair a mess around his face, blond strands sticking up awkwardly.

“Holy shit,” Steve mutters happily as he stirs it with the straw.

Their shoulders are just barely touching, but Steve leans over so he’s pressed against him when he asks if Bucky wants to try it. Steve holds it out and Bucky leans down to taste it, making an impressed face when he looks back to Steve. Despite still being sick, Steve seems happier than usual, a smile on his face he takes another sip of his milkshake. They sit in comfortable silence, passing the milkshake back and forth like a cigarette until Steve sucks loudly at what’s left at the very bottom. When he’s finished, Steve leans over Bucky to put his empty cup on the bedside table, clearly unaware of how close he is to Bucky.

It’s doing shit to Bucky’s head.

He tries to tell himself that this isn’t romantic. He refuses to get some distorted idea of what their friendship is. Steve seems completely at ease, though, leaning his head against Bucky’s shoulder and smiling at him as he sips his milkshake. He barely even seems fazed by waking up next to Bucky or Bucky’s hand sifting through his hair.

Bucky thought he was doing so well at not crossing a line with Steve. He must’ve, though, a while ago, since he never even noticed it happening.

“I bought you soup,” Bucky blurts out, mostly to himself. Lord, he must’ve crossed that line weeks ago without even realizing it. “And fuzzy socks.”

Steve bursts into laughter when he hears this. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. He rubs the back of his neck as he feels his cheeks get hot. “I mean, it’s just canned chicken noodle. Isn’t anything like my ma’s homemade soup, but I never learned the recipe.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve hums playfully. He’s smiling when he casually reaches for Bucky’s hand, fingers soft as he clasps their hands together.

Bucky stares at their entwined hands and tries to make sense of it. Steve isn’t offering any explanation, and he barely seems like he’s thinking about it as he leans against Bucky and murmurs, “Hope I don’t get you sick.”

“I think you’ll be fine. The serum did more than just give me a bunch of muscles, you know.”

Steve laughs. “Oh, right. Sometimes I forget about that.”

They stay as they are for a while. Neither of them talk much as they stay warm under the covers, Steve’s hand still tightly holding onto Bucky’s. Bucky almost even falls back asleep with how comfortable it is, but the sound of Steve’s rattling breath keeps him awake.

***

One day, Steve messages Bucky to meet him outside of the medical wing after work.

Bucky throws on a clean shirt and heads over, running a hand through his wet hair. Steve is waiting for him already, a soft smile on his face when he catches sight of Bucky.

“Hey,” he says quietly. He’s leaning against the wall, his arms over his chest and one of his legs propped against the wall. He’s in his leather jacket, as usual, but he must’ve changed out of his uniform.

Bucky smiles. “We gettin’ dinner?”

“No, not tonight,” Steve tells him. “I was actually summoned by Tony Stark, so I was wondering if you’d come with me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of Tony?”

Steve shrugs. “He is kind of my boss.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but still follows after Steve when he kicks off the wall and starts walking away. They take the elevator to Tony’s floor, which seems strange to Bucky. He wants to ask Steve why Tony would have him meet him at his apartment, and not one of his offices.

The answer is quickly questioned when the doors ring open and they’re met with a crowd of people all screaming, “Happy birthday!”

Bucky instantly looks over to Steve who is wearing a shit-eating grin, arms crossed over his chest smugly.

“You liar!” Bucky shouts at him, laughing.

Steve shrugs. “Espionage might not be your thing, Buck.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and without thinking throws an arm around Steve’s shoulders. It’s his left arm, but Steve seems perfectly happy under the weight, leaning into Bucky’s side and still laughing. They exit the elevator to find the party already in full swing, the suite crammed with people that Bucky doesn’t even know. The music starts back up, loud and full of bass that makes people dance happily.

“What are you now? Three hundred?” Tony asks.

Natasha scoffs. “I think it’s three hundred and twelve.”

Thor just makes a face like he’s trying to do the math in his head.

“Very funny, you guys,” Bucky says sarcastically.

Steve peers up at him, a smile on his face. “You’re a fossil.”

Somehow, it sounds fond when he says it.

Bucky downs a few shots with everyone, even if he can’t actually get drunk. The sting of the alcohol in his throat almost makes him believe for a few seconds he can feel a little something, but it’s more because of the excitement of his friends. Steve watches on, sipping on soda without an ounce of jealousy. Instead, he seems amused by the way that Tony’s face scrunches up from the tequila.

The party feels more like a blur, Steve disappearing at one point as Bucky is telling a story to Natasha and Bruce. He sees him a little later, in the corner with Sam. Their heads are bent together, the two of them talking over the loud music. Bucky looks away, and tries to pay attention to Bruce’s story.

Eventually, Steve comes back, hesitantly standing on the fray of the group, a rectangular wrapped box in his hand. Bucky must keep looking over to him because eventually Tony stops what he’s saying and groans.

“Just go over to him,” he says, putting his arms over his chest and gesturing to Steve. “I know you’re waiting to have birthday sex, so just go and do it.”

“We’re not – It’s not like that,” Bucky fumbles. He’s used to the way his teammates will tease him about Steve, particularly Tony, but something about the insinuation right in front of Steve makes Bucky feel hot all over. It’s not like he’d particularly mind birthday sex with Steve.

Tony is clearly amused, though, and got the exact reaction he was hoping for. “Whatever you say, lover boy.”

Bucky flips him off as he walks over to Steve. He’s still awkwardly clutching on the gift and now he’s blushing, eyes flicking from the ground to Bucky’s face. Bucky mostly just wants to wrap him up in his arms and shield him from Bucky’s stupid friends.

Instead, he leads him to one of the guest bedrooms that are thankfully empty. When Steve shuts the door behind him, the music becomes muffled and for a few seconds, Bucky just listens to the ringing in his ears.

“So, it’s not much,” Steve tells him, holding out the gift to Bucky. “But, uh, hopefully you like it.”

“You didn’t have to get me something,” Bucky tells him instantly because it seems like the right thing to say.

Steve waves him off. “Like I said, it’s not much.”

The two of them sit on the bed, a safe distance between them, and Bucky starts to unwrap his gift. He tears away the paper to find a cardboard box. Bucky jokingly shakes the box up against his ear. Whatever it is, it makes no noise.

“Not much to go off of,” Bucky hums.

He swallows thickly before finally taking the lid off. Inside, Bucky find a thick piece of paper resting on something dark blue. Bucky smiles down at it, careful not to touch the drawing as he picks it up.

“Holy shit,” he mutters to himself.

It’s a drawing of _him_. It’s black and white in what must be charcoal, the lines quick and precise. Bucky’s sitting on a kitchen stool, his hair pulled back into a neat bun and a smile on his face, like Steve had caught him mid-laugh. Bucky barely recognizes himself.

“When you came over to my apartment for the first time, I told you I hadn’t done anything in a while,” Steve explains hesitantly, almost looking embarrassed with the way he fidgets with his hands and blushes. “And I know you said you wanted to model for it, but it was just supposed to be something quick for a warmup. I just thought maybe – I don’t know. I guess it’s more of a thank you for helping me get back into it.”

Bucky stares at him, surprised and warm. “I didn’t do anything,” he blurts out stupidly.

Steve only shrugs, smiling down to his shoes.

“It’s really good, Steve,” Bucky says sincerely. He smiles at Steve until he finally looks back up to him. “You know how much I love myself.”

Steve laughs and shakes his head. Bucky places down the drawing and then takes out what is actually a pullover. He runs his hands over the soft material and then looks back up Steve.

“The sweater was just kind of – I don’t know – I saw it, and I thought of you.”

The thought of Steve actually seeing something and thinking of Bucky makes something in his chest flutter. He wants to lean over and kiss Steve breathless. He can’t, though, so instead he pulls Steve into a hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

Steve sighs into his shoulder and says something so quiet that Bucky doesn’t even hear it. The pop music from the party is bleeding through from the room over, the bass a dull thud as they quietly breathe. Bucky makes no moves to pull away, and neither does Steve.

“It’s your birthday,” Steve tells him quietly. “You should go celebrate.”

Bucky is the one to finally pull away, only so he can smirk at Steve. “Only if you’ll dance with me.”

Steve opens his mouth to say something but only makes a distressed noise. “I can’t dance, Buck. Sorry.”

“That’s even more of a reason to dance with me,” Bucky says, standing up and carefully putting the lid back on his gift. “I have to see this.”

Bucky holds out his hand for Steve to take. Reluctantly, he does, and Bucky pulls him up from the bed. “Only because it’s your birthday, you jerk.”

Out of the bedroom, the party is still going despite Bucky’s absence, and Steve and him easily fall into the crowd. Bucky starts to move to the music, body somehow just knowing what to do once it’s met with the steady beat of the song. Steve, though, makes a frustrated face as he bops his head along to the music completely out beat.

Bucky doesn’t mean to, but he laugh. Steve looks even more frustrated. He doesn’t want to make him feel worse, so he breaks into a poor rendition of a lindy hop. Thankfully, Steve actually smiles at him.

“It’s not that hard, Stevie, come on.”

Steve seems to get out of his head after that, and the two of them get into the music and stop thinking so hard. Steve mostly just bops along to the music, but Bucky can’t help but to smile at him, and Steve smiles back. They dance like that for a few songs, the bass pulling them closer and closer.

Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, closing the gap between them. Steve doesn’t seem to mind, either, and his eyes grow dark as Bucky watches him. Bucky tries to look away, and tries so damn hard not to let this unravel. He can’t, though, and he only meets Steve’s heated gaze with his own.

He’s still surprised when Steve has to get up on his tiptoes to lean in and kiss Bucky. He has to bend his head down to meet the touch, but Bucky’s still so surprised by it he doesn’t even kiss back at first. Right at the last moment, though, just as Bucky starts to feel Steve pull away, Bucky pulls him in closer with a hand on the front of his shirt.

They’re still moving to the music, their bodies pressing into each other. Steve has a hand on Bucky’s neck that’s keeping Bucky right where he is. The song bleeds into a new one, but it does nothing to falter their touches, Steve’s mouth parting and deepening the kiss.

It feels greedy and rushed, and Bucky has half a second to wonder why before Steve pulls away, his eyes unreadable for a few seconds until he breaks into a smile. He leans his head against Bucky’s chest and laughs, and Bucky smiles but isn’t sure why.

Stupidly and selfishly, Bucky wants more of Steve. He wants to drag him back to his bed and have him all. Steve doesn’t let him, though. They only dance for the rest of the night. It’s not like Bucky expected anything more, and it’s not that he’s not happy with what he has; he’s just confused.

It’s only made worse when the party winds down and Steve asks to stay the night, following behind Bucky in the hallway to his floor with a smile on his face when Bucky turns to look at him. In Bucky’s dim bedroom, Steve slips off his leather jackets and stands awkwardly next to the bed.

“Steve,” Bucky starts, mouth open as he tries to think of something to even ask.

Steve only rounds the bed and places a sweet kiss on Bucky’s cheek. “Happy birthday, Buck.”  

When they slip into bed, Bucky keeps to his side of the bed and Steve stays on his.

***

Bucky wakes before Steve.

Steve is lying on his side, a hand shoved under the pillow and with his bangs in his face. Bucky’s hand twitches to move the strands away, but he only allows himself to look for a few seconds before he quietly gets out of the bed and heads for the bathroom.

He stands under the hot stream in the shower and ponders the night. He tells himself once Steve wakes up, he has to sit him down and talk. All signs point towards exactly what Bucky’s wanted all along, but he’s so damned scared he’s wrong. He can’t be wrong with something like this.

The sweater Steve got him fits just right. It’s a bigger size than Bucky would’ve gotten for himself, but there’s something comfortable about the way it sags on him and the sleeves are a little too long, covering his cold hands as he opens the refrigerator to look for something for breakfast.

He’s moved onto the cupboards above the stove when he first hears it. For a few seconds, he thinks it’s Steve out of bed. It’s not right, though. Instead of bare feet on the hardwood, or even the soft steps of his worn Converse, he hears a poor attempt at trying to be quiet in thick boots.

Bucky’s creeps silently through the kitchen, ears trying to pick up any stray noise as he slowly pulls a knife from the block on the counter. His eyes glance over to his bedroom door, still slightly ajar. He’s horrified, for a few quick seconds, that’s it open wider than he left it, and that someone’s already got their hands around Steve’s neck, but he tells himself to be rational. He would’ve heard it.

The scuffing of the boots stops and Bucky stands at the edge of the wall, knowing that there are at least a few people on the other side. Bucky swallows thickly and tests the weight of the knife in his palm to get a better feel for it. He’s done much worse with much less.

Abruptly, the steps start up again and Bucky easily swoops in to grab at the first man. Bucky’s a little unsteady as he holds the knife up to the man’s throat, the sharp metal scratching against his stubble. Taking a few steps back, Bucky jerks the man along with him.

The thing is, it’s not that Bucky really wants to slit this guy’s throat right in his kitchen, but he’s ready to at least negotiate with whoever’s storming his apartment.

They’re dressed in tactical gear and the two other men are raising guns at Bucky. Bucky remembers when people aiming guns at him used to feel more like a threat and less like a challenge. He almost laughs at them.

“You can’t actually be – “

The man who has the knife up against his neck, jerks in his grip and Bucky just barely turns. It’s enough for one of the gunmen to run the risk of shooting. He first shot is loud, and all Bucky can think of is Steve sleeping in the bedroom. The man in his grip jerks, yelling out in pain when he realizes he’s been shot. It’s enough force to make Bucky side-step, exposing his side for a few seconds.

Bucky’s still surprised when he’s shot, two bullets ringing out loudly into the apartment, but only one sinking into Bucky’s skin. It hurts but it’s not like it’s anything he can’t handle. If anything, he’s even more pissed than he was before.

“Doubt you’re supposed to damage the merchandise,” Bucky grits out, trying for light and airy as he digs the knife in deeper of the man he’s still holding onto. He’s whimpering in pain now, and Bucky almost wants to take him out of his misery.

He’s not planning on actually killing anyone, not with Steve in the other room and the integrity of his kitchen floor in question, but then one of them shoots again. He’s a bad shot, just as before, and only manages to shoot whoever Bucky is holding. This time, Bucky is actually fed up enough to let the man whimpering in pain drop to the floor, leaving Bucky to stalk forward and approach the two with guns. He’s not scared of their pointed barrels, though.

Right before he’s about to lunge forward, knife poised in his grip, he feels the prick of a needle on his neck. It’s not enough to stop him, and he brings the knife down until one of the men catch his wrist. Bucky rips his hand from his grip only to find his fingers fumbling as they attempt to flip the knife. He sways backwards as he watches the knife fall from his hand and clatter to the ground.

Behind him, the man gaping with bullet holes is on the ground, hands on his side and a syringe in front of him. Bucky only has a few seconds to realize what has happened before he blacks out.

***

Steve is the first thing on Bucky’s mind when he wakes.

He thinks of the soft flutter of his eyelashes from this morning. He thinks of his parted lips and the quiet huffs of his even breathing. He thinks of the way his skin shone in the morning light. For a few blissful seconds, Steve is all Bucky thinks about before he realizes his situation.

He’s handcuffed to his own counter and bleeding out onto his linoleum. The gunshot in his side is making it hurt to breathe, but it does nothing but make Bucky sharper.

The three men are at his coffee table, one with makeshift tourniquet over his abdomen. He’s slouched over at the table, muttering something that Bucky can’t make out. The two other men are on their phones, both of them casually talking. They don’t even realize Bucky is awake.

“We have _fucking_ _Captain America_ ,” one of them says, laughing.

“In his own home, too,” the other says.

The first man snorts. “Remind me to take pictures once we’re finished with him. Mark is never going to believe me if I don’t.”

Looking around, there are no signs of Steve. It relieves and worries Bucky simultaneously. Bucky’s got this horrible thought that Steve tried to be a hero and he’s already bleeding out in the bedroom. He ignores the thought and quietly tests the handcuffs, but the bulky metal is less flimsy than Bucky hoped it would be. Tiredly, Bucky turns to the men at his kitchen table.

“Your friend isn’t looking so hot,” he says flippantly, his voice raw.

Their heads snap up at the sound of his voice.

One of them honest to god cracks their knuckles and goes, “That’s going to be you soon enough.”

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky says, laughing. “You sound like the worst villain ever written.”

This must not make him happy because he stands from the table and punches Bucky in the face. It knocks the wind out of him, but he’s had much worse. He can taste the blood dripping down from his nose into his mouth. Spitting towards the man’s shoes, Bucky goes, “That the worst you got?”

The other man is the next to punch Bucky, clearly invigorated by his taunting. Even Bucky can admit that the second punch is halfway decent. Makes him choke on the blood in the back of his throat and sputter a little before focusing his eyes enough to catch the blond-haired man sneaking around behind his captors.

Bucky instantly feels his stomach drop, thrown into a panic by the sight of him. Steve’s slipped on his leather jacket and is carrying his shoes in his left hand, clearly trying to be quiet as his socked feet make their way across the living room. He stops, though, to look over to Bucky. His eyes are wide with worry, and Bucky knows he should look away. He’s only drawing attention Steve. Desperately, Bucky attempts to ward him off with his eyes.

Steve stands his ground, which doesn’t surprise Bucky. Then, though, he holds out his right hand so that he can point at himself and then slowly make pointed gestures with his fingers. It takes Bucky a second to realize what he’s doing. Steve’s spelling out “HELP” in sign language.

Steve then leaves, quietly making his way out of the room and disappearing into safety. Bucky almost can’t believe his luck. Steve backing down from a fight has to be a miracle. Bucky only then realizes that someone is taking a picture of him.

The other man holds out his phone in Bucky’s direction, a picture of a group of men all smiling and holding beers. “You remember them?” he asks, voice hard. “You killed them in Jersey a few weeks ago.”

It all clicks together then. They had raided that HYDRA base in New Jersey. This is revenge.

“Do you remember how you killed them?”

Bucky doesn’t. The place had been teeming with HYDRA agents. He hadn’t thought twice about killing them. Bucky stays silent, swallowing down blood and bile.

“Fractured skulls because of your shield,” he says. “They bled out painful deaths because of you.”

Bucky tries to shrug. “They deserved it.”

This grants Bucky another punch in the face, which was almost expected. What isn’t expected, though, is the flash of blond hair behind the men. Horrified, he realizes Steve is back.

Bucky realizes Steve is surveying the living room for a weapon. He carefully picks out the fireplace poker and starts to tiptoe closer. Bucky feels like he can’t breathe as he starts to struggle against his restraints.

“This is going to be good,” the man with the phone says, completely obviously. Just then, he puts his phone into his pocket and pulls back his foot to kick Bucky in the stomach, just below the bullet hole.

This is enough reason to send Steve into motion. Despite his small body, Bucky is surprised how viciously he whacks the poker at the man’s head. There’s a few seconds of shocked silence, where the man and Steve both look at each other with alarmed expressions on their faces as Bucky and the other man stare on with gaped mouths.

Steve kicks into motion again and aims for the other man. The blow never connects, though, because he’s easily being wrangled in, the poker being knocked to the ground and his arms being pinned behind his back. Steve struggles, kicking and yelling as he tries to escape.

Bucky can’t let this happen and be forced to watch helplessly.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch him!” he shouts at them.

He can already see his mistake before the two men smirk at him, realizing that Steve is important to him. Just like their friends.

“This just got even better,” one says. Teasingly slow, he picks up his gun from the counter and aims it at Bucky. He stares fearlessly into the barrel. Then, though, he turns to it Steve, digging the barrel into his hair.

Bucky is already trying to break his thumbs, anything to get out of the restraints. Steve stares at him stoically, standing calmly with a gun to his head. For an awful second, they stare at each other. Bucky suddenly regrets everything, and he wishes he could go back. He should’ve told Steve sooner how he felt. Or maybe he should’ve never gotten involved and saved him before all of this could happen.

Just then, a shot rings out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i'm sorry that was truly the meanest cliffhanger ever. hopefully this makes up for it ;)

PART FIVE

Natasha is the one who fires.

It’s two clean shots to the head that leave Steve frozen where he stands, the two bodies dropping to the ground around him. Bucky instantly wants to cover Steve’s eyes and hold him close. He doesn’t want him to have to see this life. Steve is innocent and Bucky hates the idea of this tainting all the good things in him.

There’s not much he can do, though. It takes at least a half hour for Tony to finally get him out of the cuffs, which is also enough time for Bucky to realize what happened. The three men had managed to hack into Stark Tower and add fake credentials as lab techs, which granted them access into the building. They even disarmed JARVIS for Bucky’s entire suite, leaving him completely alone, if not for Steve.

Steve actually had gone for help before coming back for Bucky. Natasha had already been coming up, though, and ran into Steve in the hallway.

“You’re a goddamn genius,” Bucky hisses at Tony as he gingerly touches his bruised wrists. “You would think you’d have some decent security.”

“He was good,” is all Tony offers up, eyes moving across the room to Bucky’s kitchen table. The bodies are all gone, but the blood has yet to be cleaned up.

Bucky gently touches the fresh gauze on his abdomen, mind wandering to Steve’s gentle, shaky hands. Once he had realized what happened, Steve had nearly snapped to life, on a mission to patch Bucky up like he always does. He knelt between Bucky’s legs to dig out the bullet and even scrub away the dried blood on his face. He had refused to let any of the paramedics touch Bucky.

Now, he’s in the corner of the room with his arms around his torso as he talks to the police. Bucky’s eyes zero in on the blood dried on Steve’s shirt. He must feel Bucky’s eyes on him because he glances over. He flashes a small, tired looking smile before turning back to the cop.

“He’s going to be fine,” Tony says then, watching Bucky carefully.

Bucky shakes his head. “He shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in this shit.”

“It could’ve been anyone. HYDRA is everywhere.”

“But it was him, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

Tony puts his hand out, like he’s thinking of putting it down on Bucky’s shoulder, but then awkwardly withdraws it. “Bucky,” he starts. “He’s fine. A little shaken up maybe, but he’s fine. That’s all that matters.”

Bucky purses his lips and stares down at his shoes. He’s deep in thought when he realizes that Tony has left and Steve is in his place, his arms crossed over his chest as he looks Bucky up and down.

“You should really go to the medical wing and get some tests done,” Steve tells him.

Bucky can’t think of a reason why he can’t, so he wordlessly follows Steve, body stiff and aching as he sags against the wall in the elevator. The tests take a few hours before Bucky’s allowed to leave. He loses Steve after only a couple minutes, but he reemerges before he leaves. He smiles when he greets Bucky, and for a few seconds, Bucky can almost pretend this all didn’t happen and he’s just meeting Steve after he got off his shift.

It’s not true, though.

“So, I should probably be getting out of here,” Steve says quietly.

Bucky nods, even if he’s horrified of the thought of having Steve out of his sight again. They head downstairs and outside, and Steve pauses awkwardly a few steps from the door to look back at Bucky. They stare at each other for a few seconds before Steve steps forward and hugs Bucky.

The relief nearly makes Bucky cry. He melts into the hug, arms painfully tight around Steve as he cradles the back of his head, and fists the back of his jacket with the other. Steve buries his face into Bucky’s neck. Everything feels okay for a few seconds.

Bucky hates letting go. He can practically see the disappointment in Steve’s sagged shoulders as he looks at Bucky and then back to the building behind him.

“You shouldn’t stay here tonight,” he says. “Come over to my apartment.”

“Steve, I shouldn’t.” Not with everything that’s happened. Not when Bucky should be making his getaway plans. He needs to be pushing Steve away, but all he really wants to do is pull him closer.

Steve grabs his hand, thin fingers entwining with Bucky’s metal ones. “I want you there.”

 _That’s all I’ve ever wanted_ , Bucky thinks.

“If you’re sure,” Bucky says.

***

They order pizza and sit on the ground in Steve’s living room, a mindless TV show playing quietly in the background as they eat at the coffee table. Bucky’s not hungry, and he doesn’t think Steve is, either, but the two of them eat at least one slice each and pick at the second one. Bucky wonders if Steve does it for Bucky, like he does it for Steve.

Finally, when the silence gets too heavy, Bucky wipes his hands on his napkin and sighs. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he tells him stubbornly.

Bucky laughs, even if there’s nothing comical about it. “You almost died today because of me.”

“I didn’t.”

“But you almost did and that’s – ” Bucky cuts off, swallowing thickly at the thought. “This is all my fault.”

“Nothing’s your fault, Bucky, because nothing happened.”

Bucky hears his voice rise as he nearly shouts, “But it could’ve!”

“You can’t think like that because it’s just going to hurt every time,” Steve tells him firmly. “Do you know how many times I’ve seen you go off on a new mission? I’ve had you disappear for _weeks_ with no clue on how you’re doing. You could be dead, and I wouldn’t know. You always come home, though. _Always_.”

Bucky realizes this is his chance. If he wants to get away, to save Steve, this is his chance. “What if one day I won’t?” he asks, not expecting an answer.

Steve shakes his head, not even fazed. “You’ll always come home.”  

Bucky knows it’s not true. He knows that one day he won’t come home because it’s already happened once and it will happen again. Steve has to know this too, but he’s so incredibly stubborn he’ll believe it until the very end. Somehow, there’s something about it that makes Bucky love Steve even more.

Because Bucky does love Steve, and he’s loved him for a while.

The conversation ends and they watch TV and pick at their pizza instead of talking things out. They turn on a movie and gradually find themselves inching closer and closer to each other. Bucky doesn’t follow the plot. He keeps finding himself spacing out, staring at the glow of the DVD player power button instead of the screen. Steve has a hand in Bucky’s hair, languidly twirling the strands around.

Bucky knows he should leave. He should get up from the couch and leave without another word. All he wants to do is fall asleep to Steve’s soft touches and the ambiance of the TV playing. He should take a taxi back to the Tower and find a way to reassign himself a new doctor. All he wants to do is wake up in Steve’s bed, the two of them safe and happy if even for a few minutes bathed in the morning light.

He doesn’t fall asleep, but he might be dozing when he feels Steve stand up, the screen black and the credits rolling. Steve is bent over the coffee table, collecting the plates and cups. Bucky quickly stands to wordlessly help, taking in the pizza box to recycle.

Things feel tense as Steve rinses out the cups and lets the silverware clatter into the sink. Bucky stands a few safe feet away and watches, completely forgetting to offer to help as he watches Steve’s back move through the white shirt he changed into.

The sink is turned off and Steve is drying his hands when Bucky asks, “Why did you kiss me?”

It feels like years ago that they finally kissed. Bucky still remembers every detail perfectly, though. He’s never going to forget it, and that’s what’s making him feel so wild inside.

Steve holds his gaze for a few seconds before his eyes drop the ground. He shrugs. “It was your birthday,” he offers quietly.

“That’s all it meant to you?”

The pause is too long. Bucky is waiting so patiently for the rejection. Steve is quiet, though, head bowed and hands buried deep into his pockets. Slowly, Steve shakes his head. He doesn’t offer anything else, though, and when he looks up to Bucky, his face is conflicted and too complex for Bucky to pick anything out.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky says. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s been a long day. I’m going to go – ”  Bucky motions to the living room entrance behind them, but Steve instantly shakes his head.

“I’m not going to let you sleep on the couch with a goddamn bullet wound.”

Bucky’s so relieved, he doesn’t even argue.

***

Steve is warm beside him.

They’re just barely touching under the covers, but that’s all Bucky needs. The room is too dark because Steve had securely shut the curtains, like maybe he could shut out the whole world with the simple motion. Bucky tries not to think about the agents probably posted around the building keeping watch for Bucky while they sleep.

Bucky isn’t sleeping, though. No matter how tired he feels, and now matter how badly he yearns to wake to the morning sun seeping through the curtains, he can’t fall asleep. Instead, he plays out a million scenarios in his head of how he should walk out now and never come back.

He imagines pulling back the covers and slipping on his shoes and walking away from all this. He could live a life without Steve, he could. He imagines only seeing glimpses of him in busy medical waiting rooms or flashes of blond hair in the cafeteria. He would hate it, too. He would probably end up stalking around Steve’s building late at night in hopes of actually being able to save him himself.

Worst of all, he’s fixated on Steve’s refusal to admit that the kiss meant nothing. He doesn’t want to talk about it yet. Bucky knows he has to give him time, but he’s not sure they really have any time left.

Steve’s breathing evens out, and Bucky is almost positive he’s asleep. It’s enough. He carefully sits up and starts to stand, his body only a few inches away from Steve’s when he feels a soft hand grabbing at his wrist.

“Don’t,” Steve whispers, tugging him softly back to the back.

 _Pull away_ , Bucky thinks on a loop, _Pull away and never look back because it’s for the better_.

“Please don’t go.”

So, Bucky pulls closer instead of away. Steve does the same, enveloping Bucky with his arms and pushing their bodies together. Steve has a hand in Bucky’s hair, softly stroking his head, when he leans in and surprises Bucky with a kiss.

Bucky lets Steve lead, slipping his tongue into Bucky’s mouth and making Bucky _want_. Bucky lets his hands wander, finally able to actually touch without any sort of pretense. Steve leans into the touches, but freezes when Bucky’s hand starts to wander lower, fingers skimming the material of his sweatpants.

“Stop,” Steve whispers, pushing back. He’s out of breath and looks a little shocked as he moves from Bucky, all his heat disappearing. “I’m sorry. This is – not now.”

Desperately, Bucky is trying to backtrack and see what he’s done wrong. He’s terrified at the thought of pushing Steve into anything he didn’t want.

“I want you to stay but,” Steve whispers, grabbing his hand. “Not now.”

It’s enough to make Bucky feel better. He feels Steve squeeze his hand, and Bucky squeezes back before deciding that he might just see the morning light of Steve’s bedroom tomorrow.

***

He does.

Steve is awake when Bucky opens his eyes, the soft morning light shining on the white sketching paper that Steve has in his lap. He’s moving his pencil quickly against the paper, blond hair falling into his eyes as he leans forward. It’s just long enough for him to push a few strands behind his ear before his eyes flick up to Bucky, only to realize he’s awake.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his face going red as he goes to shut his sketchbook. “How are you feeling?”

Bucky stops him with a hand on the top of the paper. He doesn’t look, though. “Are you drawing me?”

Steve shrugs.

“Did you make sure to draw my drool?”

Holding out the sketchbook so Bucky can see, Steve says, “Artistic interpretation.”

There is no drool. Instead, Steve’s drawn something that Bucky can’t quite believe is really himself. He’s sleeping on his side, a hand tucked under the pillow and his mouth slightly parted. Strands of dark hair are covering part of his face and there’s just the shadow of his stubble shaded in. He doesn’t look like Bucky, but Bucky knows that face. He knows that mouth and he knows those eyes. The thing is, he’s never seen it look like that before.

He won’t admit it to Steve, but Bucky’s grateful that Steve sees him like that. He’s happy that Steve doesn’t see how Bucky feels about himself sometimes. Instead of the blood and sharp edges, Steve sees softness and vulnerability that Bucky’s always hated. Steve makes him like those parts of himself, though.

“Do you do this every time I sleep over?” Bucky asks, giving Steve a teasing smile.

Steve snorts. “You wish.”

Steve puts the sketchbook back on his lap and continues working on it, shading parts of his face and erasing some of his hair to redraw. Bucky watches him, fingers idly playing with the edge of the blanket. After a few minutes, Steve happens to look up and catches Bucky watching him.

He smiles. “What?”

Before Bucky can catch himself, he blurts out, “I’m in love with you.”

The smile on Steve’s face drops. He stares at Bucky for too long before replying. “Aren’t you scared by that?” Steve asks quietly.

“I was,” Bucky admits. “But you almost died the other day, Steve. There are other things to be scared of.”

Steve slowly puts the sketchbook and his pencil aside, a thoughtful look on his face when he turns to Bucky. It’s agonizing. Bucky waits and tries not to get his hopes up. Then, finally, Steve pulls Bucky up with a hand tugging at the front of his shirt. Bucky sits up and waits.

Steve’s lips are just as blissful as before. He kisses Bucky with a fervor that makes him think that Steve is trying to tell him something. Bucky swears he knows, but he’s too scared to believe it.

Bucky’s not sure until Steve pulls back, breath hot against Bucky’s lips and says, “I love you, too.”

He says it like it’s a secret, and maybe it has been, but all Bucky hears is permission. Permission to press his lips to Steve’s. Permission to finally let go of the front Bucky’s been trying so hard to put up. Permission to fall and fall and fall and for Steve to still catch him.

And he does, gentle hands cupping his face and keeping him right where he is so he can keep kissing him. Bucky’s love felt like an apology for so long that he almost forgot that there was a chance Steve wouldn’t find the burden in his feelings.

Steve moves to straddle Bucky’s thighs, his thin body barely weighing anything. Bucky lets his hands run down Steve’s side and slide back up with his fingers under his shirt, his skin hot under Bucky’s touch. He barely even realizes what’s happening until he feels the soft material of his shirt tickle the side of his face as it goes over his head, leaving him shirtless for Steve’s hands to keep exploring.

Bucky’s desperate to feel Steve’s skin against his own, so he’s quick to take off Steve’s own shirt. Bucky kisses down Steve’s neck to the hollows of his collar bones, pulling Steve closer so their chests are flush. Steve lets out breathy gasps when he leans into the touch, his hips canting so he can meet Bucky’s.

Bucky’s only in a pair of briefs, and Steve has on thin sweatpants that do nothing to hide his erection. All it takes is one glance down at it for Bucky to want everything. Steve’s still rocking into Bucky sinuously slow and making breathy noises when Bucky lets his hands wander down to palm at Steve through his sweatpants.

“Jesus, Steve,” he groans, suddenly desperate to make Steve fall apart. “Can I?”

Instantly, Steve nods. When Bucky’s hand actually slips under the band of his sweatpants and into his briefs, Steve nearly whimpers as he leans his head against Bucky’s chest. Steve is hot and hard in Bucky’s hand, and it’s driving him wild just to touch him. Steve’s noises, though, as Bucky starts an easy rhythm with his hand is even better. Bucky wants to see just how many moans and whimpers he can get from Steve.

He barely even realizes that Steve’s snaked a hand into his own pants until his palm is on him. The two of them lean into each other and Bucky absentmindedly kisses Steve’s neck. Bucky noses at Steve’s jaw until he looks up and Bucky kisses him on the lips. It’s slow and unfocused and eventually breaks off so they can concentrate on the pleasure, the two of them leaning their foreheads together.

Steve keeps saying Bucky’s name in varying pitches, breaking off to groan and lean into the touch as much as he can. He stills when he comes. The hand on Bucky comes to a halt as he lets go all over Bucky’s hand. There’s something so satisfying knowing that it was Bucky who got Steve off and left him a mess on his lap. Bucky nearly comes at the thought.

He doesn’t, though, not until Steve comes down from his orgasm and starts back up, his motions quick and pointed. He wants Bucky to get off, and Bucky wants it just as much.

“Come on, Bucky,” Steve says quietly. “Want you to come for me.”

That’s all it takes for Bucky. He’s clenches his eyes shut when it hits, a wave of pleasure that takes ahold of him and lets him have a few seconds of pure bliss. Steve strokes him through his orgasm, still whispering in his ear things that Bucky only half hears.

They lean against each other and just breathe each other in. When Bucky finally feels like he can think properly again, he pulls his hand from Steve’s pants, Steve following him. He starts to laugh, though, leaning into Bucky again.

“We’re a couple of teenagers,” he says, keeping his sticky hand raised for emphasis.

“I wish I would’ve known you as a teenager,” Bucky hums, relishing the feeling of Steve against him. “I would’ve been having way better sex.”

Steve barks out a tired laugh.

***

They go to a shitty diner down the road from Steve’s apartment.

It’s too early for rowdy children, and instead the few booths that aren’t free are filled with people nursing hangovers or contemplating newspapers. Steve and Bucky sit in the corner, Bucky looking over the menu while Steve plays with the corner of his own, the old lament peeling away under his fingers. He’s zoned out, staring into the table with his eyebrows stitched together.

Bucky’s worried for Steve. He’s been thinking about it for the past few days since it happened. They’ve been hiding away in Steve’s apartment, refusing to address the scene of the crime at Bucky’s. Eventually, they have to go back. Steve only has so many days off from work, and Bucky can’t stay at Steve’s forever.

“Have you talked to Sam about what happened?” Bucky asks then.

Steve looks up, confused. “Why would I?”

“I don’t want you to get fucked up, Steve,” Bucky tells him bluntly. “What you saw, it’s not – that’s not normal.”

Steve scoffs. “It is for you.”

“Yeah, for me, not for you.”

“Then why don’t you get help?” Steve asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “You always want to help me, but you won’t ever help yourself. How many times have you told Sam you’d go to the VA?”

“It’s not the same.”

Steve is about to say something, mouth open and finger pointing accusatorily at Bucky, when the waitress comes by and asks for their orders. Bucky quickly rattles off his order and hands back the menu. Once the waitress walks away, Steve sighs and rubs his fingers over the condensation on his glass of water.

“I’ll talk to Sam when you give the VA a chance,” he finally says.

Bucky doesn’t want to agree. He didn’t think the VA was all that bad, and he could probably muddle his way through a few group sessions, but if he agrees, he knows he’s admitting that he has some problems. It terrifies him. He can’t refuse the other, though, not when he’s even more terrified that Steve will wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares or never see the world the same way again.

“Fine, I will.”

Steve looks up at him, clearly surprised. “Okay,” he says slowly.

They hesitate, the two of them seemingly in different worlds, but then Steve centers them with one simple motion. His hand is warm and soft on top of Bucky’s, and he stares down at their two hands and smiles.

“I only want you to talk to him because I care about you,” Bucky tells him.

Steve nods. “I know.”

Without hesitation, Bucky leans over the table to kiss Steve, pulling him forward with a hand on his shirt. It’s quick and chaste, but Bucky still feels breathless when he leans back into his seat and smiles wider at Steve. Across from the table, Steve looks just as surprised as before.

“Was that okay?” Bucky asks, suddenly concerned.

Steve instantly copies Bucky’s motions, leaning into the table to kiss Bucky right back.

Bucky thinks things will be all right.

***

Really, Bucky is only gone for a week on a mission. Away from Steve, though, the time feels infinite.

Right when he gets back to the tower, Bucky’s already stripping out of his suit so he’s just in a pair of briefs. Tony makes a comment about this ass, Natasha rolls her eyes, and Thor doesn’t seem to notice it at all. When he gets to medical, no one seems to even notice him except for the blond haired man who looks vaguely unimpressed when he walks up to Bucky.

“Why do you always have to get naked?” Steve asks, arms over his chest.

Bucky shrugs and then flexes. “Why? Do you like it?”

“I’ve seen better.”

Bucky pointedly looks Steve up and down, smirking and winking at him. “So have I.”

Steve seems even less impressed by this, but Bucky can still see the hint of a smile on his face as he turns and leads Bucky to the exam room. He’s not nearly as beat up as he usually is, but Steve still patches him. He’s technically off the clock, the team’s arrival just a few minutes shy of Steve’s shift. Steve doesn’t seem to mind, though. Especially not when Bucky drags him back to his floor and starts kissing him in the elevator.

Things have been good between them. The transition from friends to lovers nearly happened over night, like the two of them had always been circling each other but hadn’t known it. Bucky goes on missions and to group sessions at the VA, and Steve gives Bucky stitches and volunteers at free clinics. Bucky takes the train to Brooklyn to visit Steve, and Steve stays the night at Bucky’s apartment in his bed. Bucky’s not sure how they got this lucky.

“Missed you,” Steve whispers to him between kisses.

Bucky smiles. “I missed you, too.”

“Good.”

Steve reaches over to pull Bucky closer with a hand fisted in his shirt. Bucky lets him tug him forward and heatedly kiss him again. His touch is rougher than Bucky is expecting. Instead of feather-light touches, Steve tangles his hands into Bucky’s hair and pulls a little before slipping down to yank off his own shirt. Then they’re both shirtless, leaving skin on skin touches that make Bucky feel like his legs might buckle.

Bucky groans into the kiss, and he can practically feel the way Steve smirks. His kisses travel downwards, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin of his neck before dipping even lower to pepper light kisses on Bucky’s chest and to lick a broad stripe over his nipple.

“Want you inside me,” Steve tells him unabashedly.

It’s not like Bucky’s going to argue with that.

They slowly make their way to Bucky’s bedroom, two steps at a time as they kiss and Steve walks Bucky backwards. He’s surprised when the back of his legs touch his bed and Steve pushes him into it. It’s not as graceful as either of them are expecting it to be, and Steve’s elbow jabs Bucky’s sternum, and they break into laughter.

Bucky rubs his chest like he’s actually in pain. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“You’re such a baby,” Steve says before leaning in and kissing Bucky.

All their stuff from last time is still on the bedside table, a strip of condoms pulled from the open box. Bucky makes quick work of taking off the rest of their clothes. Steve’s already hard, precome dripping from the tip and making Bucky’s mouth water. He pushes Steve down into bed and kisses his way down to Steve’s chest and his hips until his tongue is flat against Steve’s cock.

Steve threads his hands through Bucky’s hair and tugs as he swallows him down. Steve whines his name and Bucky is only invigorated by it, opening his mouth more and swallowing as far as he can.

“Don’t wanna come yet,” Steve hums, the grip in Bucky’s hair tightening.

Bucky reluctantly pulls away with a wet pop and grins up at Steve. His face is red and he’s out of breath, clearly only a few seconds from coming down Bucky’s throat. The thought makes Bucky idly tug at his own cock before grabbing for the bottle of lube on the nightstand.

Steve steals it from him and gets his own fingers slick before bringing them down to his ass. Bucky watches as he opens himself up, and Steve watching the way Bucky touches himself. Before Bucky even realizes it, Steve pushes Bucky so that he’s sitting against the back of the bed and then sinks down on his cock, the two of them letting out gasped breaths.

“Fuck, Bucky,” Steve sighs out, one arm braced on Bucky’s leg so that he can lift himself back up only to fall again.

Bucky can’t coherently come up with the right words to tell Steve how good he feels, so he opts for just moaning and wrapping his arms around Steve. He tries to keep it together as Steve sets a rhythm, bopping up and down on Bucky’s dick.

Steve chokes on a moan when Bucky wraps his hand around his cock and starts to stroke. If he hadn’t been close before, he must be now, his hips pushing forward slightly to hit that spot in him so perfectly. He’s left a mess in Bucky’s arm, slamming down onto him with no grace as he gets closer and closer.

Bucky comes before Steve, dropping his head onto Steve’s shoulder and letting out a long breath as he comes into the condom. It’s only a minute after Bucky that Steve comes too, a sticky mess on either of their chests and laps, Steve actually laughing a little before kissing Bucky.

“Now I know why I keep you around,” he says between gulps of air, Bucky still inside Steve.

Bucky playfully smacks his arm. It only makes Steve laugh harder.

“I’m sure there’s another nurse I could fall in love with, you know,” Bucky teases. “Don’t get too cocky.”

Steve rolls his eyes. He’s clearly not worried.

 


End file.
